It was a normal Thursday at 2:00. My three-year-old was finished with her rest time (where once again she didn't fall asleep despite my intense prayer) and we were looking to fill the hour before we would have to wake her two brothers and put them in the car for our daily exercise in patience they call the "car-pool line."
I was particularly exhausted, fighting off a migraine and trying to caffeinate myself into coherence after 2 nights of very little sleep. I asked my daughter what she would like to do (hoping she'd say she wants to lie down and watch me sleep) and she asks if we can make cookies.
"Sure," I say, I figure that will fill the hour nicely enough and then we can hand out cookies in the carpool line (because if we keep them in the house I will eat them all and I am already almost out of points for the day even though all I have eaten is twigs and berries, oh and I somehow gained 3lbs this morning even though I have been adhering strictly to my diet and exercising 5 days a week for almost a month....but I digress, this post is not about my post partum woes of untangible weight loss) and she will have a lovely memory of making cookies all by herself with mommy.
So we get the mixer out and start filling it with ingredients and as always I have to suppress my tendency to want everything done perfectly and allow my little girl to measure inaccurately and make a mess while doing it (this is when the eye-twitching usually starts). I also decide I should go ahead and get dinner started so I am browning meat for Shepherd's Pie while monitoring the cookie-making. Everything is going fine and we just have one ingredient to add to the dough. The mixer is mixing for us and Sophia is on a stool watching in delight as it spins sugar and butter and flour around and around. She asks if she can please have a taste now. I am not exactly sure what happened next. I am about 3 feet away at the stove-top stirring the meat, I can see her out of the corner of my eye, but the next thing I know I hear blood-curdling screams coming from my baby girl and before I can even figure out what is happening her head is flush with the mixer and her sweet little pig-tail (that I forced her to let me put in that morning) is completely wrapped in the gear above the attachment.
As quickly as I can I unplug the machine, but it's too late, her head is forced tightly against the attachment and she cannot move. She is, of course, terrified, and I am attempting to soothe her and tell her it's okay but very quickly she and I both realize that it is NOT okay. I put a towel under her cheek and tell her to rest her head on the counter saying "whatever you do don't try to get off of the stool, and try to stay very still for mommy." I say this in the calmest voice possible as I try to ignore the flashes of horror I see in my mind's eye: her jumping off the stool and scalping herself, or falling off of the stool and the heavy heavy mixer falling on top of her.
Then I just start talking to Jesus "Okay Lord, what do I do....I don't know what to do..." and I start running through my options in my mind "I could call the police...no that's ridiculous this is not that kind of emergency. I could call the fire department, they're good in weird emergencies, is this an emergency? What would they do...they would cut her out of it...NO I can't cut her hair there has to be another way....I wish Adam was here, why did we decide to make cookies! I should have just let her watch TV, this never would have happened if we were watching TV." I keep trying to figure out a way to just get the darn attachment off but it won't budge because it's too close to her scalp and I have no room to turn it to get if off. Meanwhile every time I move her head even a little she just screams and cries and says Mommy-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow, and my heart is physically hurting and I want to go back two minutes and be standing right next to her and prevent the whole stupid thing from ever happening. "Jesus, what do I do, I don't know what to do..." Then out of the mouths of babes, my sweet, terrified little three-year-old girl says "Mommy, find some scissors, gramma has scissors, get the scissors!" (my mother lives with us and cuts the kids' hair) I hadn't said anything about scissors, although of course it had occurred to me and I knew that's where we were headed but I was trying to find any other way, so the Holy Spirit had to resort to using my little girl, stuck under the iron grip of the Kitchen Aid mixer to wake me up to the fact that it's only hair and it will grow back. Thankfully there was a pair of scissors where they belong (miracle of miracles because no one ever puts them back where they belong) in the drawer in front of her. I grabbed them reluctantly and with my eyes half closed started cutting her sweet little pig tail out of the mixer. Chunks of fine, blonde hair started falling onto the ground, chunks of hair started coming out in my hand and it felt like an eternity, but finally she pulled her head free from the heavy, white monster.
I picked her up and we sat on the floor together and cried and cried. All I could do was kiss her head and tell her I was so sorry. She calmed down quickly and I brought her to the bath where we washed the cookie dough out of her hair and watched more hair fall out in the tub. Next thing I know she is calm and bathed and eating ice cream on the couch, at 2:45 in the afternoon while watching a movie...because she got her hair cut out of a mixer and she can have anything she wants. I called my husband, and as soon as I heard his voice I became somewhat hysterical, reliving the whole maddening event, and I inform him that he is going to have to please get the kids from school because we have been through too much here, and I cannot possibly get in the car and sit in that dreaded carpool line.
Miraculously her hair doesn't look that bad. She has a lot of hair so there's a small bald spot and a chunk that's about 2 inches short and then some random strands 4-6 inches long in the back, but if I comb it just right you can't even tell. Of course it wouldn't matter if her hair looked terrible because she is safe and unhurt and nothing worse happened to her...but she is one little girl in the middle of 5 little boys and she refuses to wear dresses, or skirts and wants to play T-ball this season instead of take dance, and the one thing I have is that sweet braid-able hair! ( Just a small caveat: If you are someone experiencing true suffering and sacrifice with your little girl please know that I realize this was not real suffering and her tufts of hair do not represent real loss, and I thank God everyday for the health of my children)
So I suppose there is a moral to this story. Perhaps it is to not be so busy browning meat while making cookies that you do not see the pig-tail on it's way into the monstrous grip of the machine making cookies for you. Perhaps it is to be present to every moment, even the bad ones. Or perhaps when exhausted and in pain and trying to decide between watching a movie with your kid or making cookies you should pick the movie every time. Needless to say, Sophia is a bit terrified of the Kitchen Aid now, and it may take some time and therapy to get her to be mommy's little helper ever again.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
The Best Laid Plans
It's been a while since I've written anything on my blog. This is a gross understatement since it's been over a year!
There are myriad of reasons why I stopped, one being that I had a long discussion about blogs one night with some good friends (most or none of whom knew I blogged) and everyone's general opinion of the practice was that it was narcissistic, irresponsible and embarrassing...at least most of the time, ha! So that rang in my head a bit.
However, while I was consistent with the practice I had so many people encourage me and ask me to write more so that wasn't really all it was.
I got pregnant. That's really what happened. After posts about the beauty of the Church's teaching and my gratitude for NFP, even if sometimes it meant hiding naked in my closet I found myself unexpectedly, you've-got-to-be-kidding-me pregnant.
I avoiding writing because I was not in a great place. I was angry, I was sad, I was confused. I wanted more children but there were so many reasons why it was not a good time. It wasn't my time. My health is not great and we had been determined to get things under control before the next baby. My husband is a teacher so needless to say we're not exactly stock piling college funds for the 6 we already have and I was watching my husband work three jobs most of the time still wondering how he could "really" provide for us. Then there's the issue of the six souls I am faced with forming, nurturing, getting to heaven!
It made good sense to wait a while. This was also the consensus of practically everyone we know as well, especially family and those closest to us in our lives.
But there it was, big fat positive test. Big fat lying chart. I won't walk you through the whole grueling experience but let's just say I wasn't really okay about this baby until he got here.
The pregnancy was brutal, as all of them have been in their own way. But some of the wonderfully placed priests and spiritual leaders in my life encouraged me over and over (like once a week as I cried in the confessional!) that God had a plan, that all His plans are good, and that everything was going to be okay. My spiritual director just kept telling me to offer up every part of the suffering, emotional and physical for some intention or intentions; that God cannot ignore the cries of His children, especially when he has called them to suffer, and there is power in sacrificial prayer.
So many good things came out of this season of my life. The best of which is of course the baby that we now cannot even imagine for one second living our lives without. But as always God gives so much more than we deserve. Here are just a few other things he gave me in the process:
Compassion: I love babies. Up to this point I had always gotten pregnant deliberately and convinced myself it was my idea. Finding myself pregnant when I felt I had no resources to handle it: physically, emotionally, financially, made me feel so much compassion for women who find themselves in this situation everyday. It made me realize that I had always been too judgmental about woman who consider or go through with abortion. I did not consider an abortion but I sure as hell understood how a woman alone, afraid and unformed who has not been taught the real value of a life, and the goodness of a forgiving God could convince herself that abortion is the answer. I began to pray for those women in a way I had never been able to before.
Perspective: This one took awhile but eventually I was able to see not only the great gift of this life but the lives of all these little people running around screaming and messing up my house. Not that I had never thought of them as gifts before but the word "gift" began to change for me. With the "planned" babies we felt somehow responsible: "look at us so open to life; we love God's gifts." But this little guy was not our idea. But isn't that what a gift really is? An unexpected, thoughtful, perfect blessing given by someone else. This doesn't mean of course that planning babies is bad, or that spacing babies is bad in fact that can be a beautiful gift in itself as it requires it's own sacrifice, but it does mean that when we say as Catholics that we remain open to life we really mean it. We remain open to the gifts of God whether that be the gift of space and time or the gift of another soul in the kingdom of heaven. This must be the hardest for those who cannot have babies when they want them; something I think must be a much deeper suffering than my own, because it is the constant reminder that life is just that, a gift, not a commodity, not something we pick out for ourselves, something only God can give.
Joy: Every time I am pregnant there are those irreplaceable and indescribable moments when you realize a brand new soul is growing inside of you and moving and breathing and he or she (usually he in my case) will have a vocation, a destiny and the ability to participate in the kingdom of God. Now I'd love to paint the picture that my whole pregnancy is full of this perspective but that would be a lie. This pregnancy brought with it morning (afternoon and evening) sickness. a ridiculously weakened immune system that caught 4 colds, 8 stomach viruses and eventually pneumonia that resulted in a chronic labor-inducing cough. So, most of the time "joy" was not the word I would have used to describe how I felt. Still, the mystery of life was present and with it the gratitude and awe that come when we realize what God is allowing us to participate in it and that is pure joy.
Gratitude and the Power of Prayer: This is the big one. This is where I am now. I am so grateful for the precious, perfect life that came out of God's perfect will in spite of my terrible attitude, in spite of my inability to see God's goodness right away. I followed the advice of my spiritual leaders and offered up every moment of the pregnancy for the intentions of others especially some dear to me who are pleading with God to give them a baby, for the souls of all our children that they would find their way to heaven and (somewhat selfishly) for the temperament of the baby I was carrying. I have two very strong-willed boys, one of whom was only 18 months old when this little guy made his debut and I just knew that I couldn't handle another one. I prayed that the baby would be mellow and sleep, and be easy and happy and delightful to be around. This wasn't necessary of course, God didn't have to answer this prayer but he did. He is by far the easiest baby I have ever had. My second son was really easy too but God went a step further on the mellow vibe with this little guy. I never had to bounce him or walk him to get him to stop crying; he has never cried for more than 2 minutes! He is cheerful and happy ALL the time; will let anyone hold him and sleeps, nurses and eats like a pro. I don't say this to make you hate me (although all you dear mothers of colicky children are allowed to!) but to testify to the sweet goodness of God. He transformed my suffering and my anger and my doubt into a beautiful gift, a gift that looks up at me and melts my heart every day, a gift that brings joy and laughter into our home, a gift that can even make the stubborn 2 year old stop what he is doing and selflessly love his baby brother. A gift that has humbled me, transformed our family forever and shown us the goodness of a loving God.
Everyday I thank God for interrupting our best laid plans. This life he has given us is not easy, it's not supposed to be. We've already started using NFP again, this time with even more determination and caution and I do hope that God gives us more time this time. We know we have a responsibility to these souls and we want to be good stewards, the best we can be and we are grateful to the Church and the minds within it that there are resources available to us that can help us do that. I do not see another baby in our immediate or even distant future but I know more than ever that God is really the one in control and that His ways are not my ways, but His ways are always good.
There are myriad of reasons why I stopped, one being that I had a long discussion about blogs one night with some good friends (most or none of whom knew I blogged) and everyone's general opinion of the practice was that it was narcissistic, irresponsible and embarrassing...at least most of the time, ha! So that rang in my head a bit.
However, while I was consistent with the practice I had so many people encourage me and ask me to write more so that wasn't really all it was.
I got pregnant. That's really what happened. After posts about the beauty of the Church's teaching and my gratitude for NFP, even if sometimes it meant hiding naked in my closet I found myself unexpectedly, you've-got-to-be-kidding-me pregnant.
I avoiding writing because I was not in a great place. I was angry, I was sad, I was confused. I wanted more children but there were so many reasons why it was not a good time. It wasn't my time. My health is not great and we had been determined to get things under control before the next baby. My husband is a teacher so needless to say we're not exactly stock piling college funds for the 6 we already have and I was watching my husband work three jobs most of the time still wondering how he could "really" provide for us. Then there's the issue of the six souls I am faced with forming, nurturing, getting to heaven!
It made good sense to wait a while. This was also the consensus of practically everyone we know as well, especially family and those closest to us in our lives.
But there it was, big fat positive test. Big fat lying chart. I won't walk you through the whole grueling experience but let's just say I wasn't really okay about this baby until he got here.
The pregnancy was brutal, as all of them have been in their own way. But some of the wonderfully placed priests and spiritual leaders in my life encouraged me over and over (like once a week as I cried in the confessional!) that God had a plan, that all His plans are good, and that everything was going to be okay. My spiritual director just kept telling me to offer up every part of the suffering, emotional and physical for some intention or intentions; that God cannot ignore the cries of His children, especially when he has called them to suffer, and there is power in sacrificial prayer.
So many good things came out of this season of my life. The best of which is of course the baby that we now cannot even imagine for one second living our lives without. But as always God gives so much more than we deserve. Here are just a few other things he gave me in the process:
Compassion: I love babies. Up to this point I had always gotten pregnant deliberately and convinced myself it was my idea. Finding myself pregnant when I felt I had no resources to handle it: physically, emotionally, financially, made me feel so much compassion for women who find themselves in this situation everyday. It made me realize that I had always been too judgmental about woman who consider or go through with abortion. I did not consider an abortion but I sure as hell understood how a woman alone, afraid and unformed who has not been taught the real value of a life, and the goodness of a forgiving God could convince herself that abortion is the answer. I began to pray for those women in a way I had never been able to before.
Perspective: This one took awhile but eventually I was able to see not only the great gift of this life but the lives of all these little people running around screaming and messing up my house. Not that I had never thought of them as gifts before but the word "gift" began to change for me. With the "planned" babies we felt somehow responsible: "look at us so open to life; we love God's gifts." But this little guy was not our idea. But isn't that what a gift really is? An unexpected, thoughtful, perfect blessing given by someone else. This doesn't mean of course that planning babies is bad, or that spacing babies is bad in fact that can be a beautiful gift in itself as it requires it's own sacrifice, but it does mean that when we say as Catholics that we remain open to life we really mean it. We remain open to the gifts of God whether that be the gift of space and time or the gift of another soul in the kingdom of heaven. This must be the hardest for those who cannot have babies when they want them; something I think must be a much deeper suffering than my own, because it is the constant reminder that life is just that, a gift, not a commodity, not something we pick out for ourselves, something only God can give.
Joy: Every time I am pregnant there are those irreplaceable and indescribable moments when you realize a brand new soul is growing inside of you and moving and breathing and he or she (usually he in my case) will have a vocation, a destiny and the ability to participate in the kingdom of God. Now I'd love to paint the picture that my whole pregnancy is full of this perspective but that would be a lie. This pregnancy brought with it morning (afternoon and evening) sickness. a ridiculously weakened immune system that caught 4 colds, 8 stomach viruses and eventually pneumonia that resulted in a chronic labor-inducing cough. So, most of the time "joy" was not the word I would have used to describe how I felt. Still, the mystery of life was present and with it the gratitude and awe that come when we realize what God is allowing us to participate in it and that is pure joy.
Gratitude and the Power of Prayer: This is the big one. This is where I am now. I am so grateful for the precious, perfect life that came out of God's perfect will in spite of my terrible attitude, in spite of my inability to see God's goodness right away. I followed the advice of my spiritual leaders and offered up every moment of the pregnancy for the intentions of others especially some dear to me who are pleading with God to give them a baby, for the souls of all our children that they would find their way to heaven and (somewhat selfishly) for the temperament of the baby I was carrying. I have two very strong-willed boys, one of whom was only 18 months old when this little guy made his debut and I just knew that I couldn't handle another one. I prayed that the baby would be mellow and sleep, and be easy and happy and delightful to be around. This wasn't necessary of course, God didn't have to answer this prayer but he did. He is by far the easiest baby I have ever had. My second son was really easy too but God went a step further on the mellow vibe with this little guy. I never had to bounce him or walk him to get him to stop crying; he has never cried for more than 2 minutes! He is cheerful and happy ALL the time; will let anyone hold him and sleeps, nurses and eats like a pro. I don't say this to make you hate me (although all you dear mothers of colicky children are allowed to!) but to testify to the sweet goodness of God. He transformed my suffering and my anger and my doubt into a beautiful gift, a gift that looks up at me and melts my heart every day, a gift that brings joy and laughter into our home, a gift that can even make the stubborn 2 year old stop what he is doing and selflessly love his baby brother. A gift that has humbled me, transformed our family forever and shown us the goodness of a loving God.
Everyday I thank God for interrupting our best laid plans. This life he has given us is not easy, it's not supposed to be. We've already started using NFP again, this time with even more determination and caution and I do hope that God gives us more time this time. We know we have a responsibility to these souls and we want to be good stewards, the best we can be and we are grateful to the Church and the minds within it that there are resources available to us that can help us do that. I do not see another baby in our immediate or even distant future but I know more than ever that God is really the one in control and that His ways are not my ways, but His ways are always good.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
You are Not the Only One
I was talking to one of me dear sister's in law the other day who recently had her third baby. They just moved to a new place and find themselves without much community, a hardship that is most burdensome to the stay at home mom. We were talking about her kids and she admitted to being overwhelmed sometimes with three (something I find people are remiss to admit to me sometimes just because I have more children, but believe me I was overwhelmed long before we got to six!). Then she said with a meek and shameful tone in her voice "I think I am the only mom who yells at her kids." My response probably should have been one of quiet assurance and sympathy but it went more like this: "BHAAAAA! Are you kidding me?! Should I run down the litany of ridiculous things I have done today to make you feel better?"
That's the funny thing about motherhood. You know you aren't alone, that there are millions of moms out there doing the same thing you are. Millions of us, around the world, that get up and think about everyone but ourselves for hours (sometimes days) at a time. We forgo the shower, sniff our clothes to see if we can wear them one more time, get our exercise while wearing people, or while navigating yoga poses around the toddler asking for goldfish with no regard to your concerns about maintaining a decent heart rate. We think about dinner with a looming dread as soon as we get the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher; we coordinate schedules, and clean toilets (and if you have boys this mostly consists of constantly cleaning the pee off the floor and never quite eradicating the odor it leaves behind); we teach, entertain, referee, and on a good day save time and energy to listen to (or on a really good day have sex with) our husbands. We are not alone and yet most women often feel like they are the only ones that don't love this job every second, the only ones that feel frustration or guilt or shame about the mistakes we make, the only one that dreams about running away without telling any one and escaping to Mexico where there are free-flowing margaritas and sun and quiet.
So today I thought I would give you a peek into just a few of my mistakes, the things I feel guilty about and the habits I convince myself no one else has. Hopefully it will remind you you are not alone, or at least convince you that your kids are better off then mine!
Television:
The Rule: No TV on weekdays for the school-aged children and no TV for the little ones until after nap time.
What Really Happens: My sad attempt at craft time ends with paint all over the floor and my clean shirt (which I was planning on wearing for 2 more days) the 3 year old hits the 2 year old with his paint brush, she screams and pours her paint out on the table meanwhile the baby pulls the plastic table cloth (where incidentally none of the spilled paint has ended up) so hard that the water cups spill until finally I pick up all the paint brushes and say as cheerfully as I can through gritted teeth "who wants to watch a Curious George?"
Sugar
The Rule: No sugar during the day and only in the evening if you have finished your dinner with a cheerful attitude.
What Really Happens: We have a busy morning with 2 doctors visits and remarkably everyone has held it together, then I remember that I have to get bread and milk or there will be nothing for lunches and I will have to go to the store at 8:30pm when I am half asleep, and I'll end up buying Ben and Jerry's and 7 other things I do not need. So we brave the isles and all is well for about 2 minutes, until the toddlers start fighting and the baby starts crying and before you know it I have closed their mouth holes with 2 donuts and pretend we are running "for fun" to the back of the store where they strategically keep the milk so that desperate mothers like me will end up buying donuts, at noon, before they feed their kids lunch.
Fast Food
The Rule: I will cook dinner a minimum of 6 days a week and it will be balanced and healthy and if you don't like it you can have a PBJ or go hungry.
What Really Happens: I forgot to thaw the hamburger for the tacos, and didn't really want that anyway, and then my husband is unexpectedly delayed at work. I consider the groans I'll get when I put said taco meet in front of a toddler and then I decide it would be easier to pile the kids in the car and drive through Wendy's. I'll cut up an apple or something and then it will be balanced, right? At least the baby will get a good meal...would you like a side of fries with that breast milk?
Yelling
The Rule: We do not raise our voices to each other; we do not yell to get our way; mommy will only yell when you are in danger and not when she is angry.
What actually happens: Eight-year-old yells at six-year-old, six-year-old whines and cries, three-year-old pushes six-year-old and suddenly eight-year-old is defending six-year-old by yelling at three-year-old to stop. Two-year-old wants juice, we don't have juice, two-year-old starts screaming and moaning while the aforementioned three-year-old hits the aforementioned eight-year-old and the noise and chaos wakes the sleeping 9 month old. I decide they are in danger, of being strangled, and I yell "EVERYONE STOP YELLING RIGHT THIS MINUTE!" I threaten to take away TV, video games, food, water, a soft bed and give every toy they own to the poor, and finally they stop....for now.
Bathing
The Rule: Big kids shower a minimum of four days a week, babies get baths every other night, or nightly if particularly dirty at the end of the day.
What Really Happens: It's the end of the day in a series of many long days, I realize the big boys haven't showered in 3 days so I sniff their hair and decide they can go one more day if it means they will be in bed sooner. I am nursing the baby and notice some unidentifiable crust behind his ear and realize I cannot remember the last time he had a bath so I give him a good scrub with a wipe and promise to get him and his stinky sister in the tub tomorrow.
Then there's bribing (do it), family prayer time (do it every night, but hardly ever make it through more than 1 decade of the rosary and that is usually painful or it's one Our Father and a kiss goodnight), house work (don't do it enough; my 9 month old ate at least 1/4 cup of old cheerios off the floor today before I knew what was happening), quality time (does diaper changing count? or signing homework folders?) reading (we are half way through The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, and the Hobbit, and Charlotte's Web...my six-year-old has taken it upon himself to finish these without me). You get the point.
But then, there's all the laughter and the moments where their character and kindness show through all the chaos. There are the nights when you do all sit down to dinner and they eat it, when you do all pray and they mean it, when they listen to the story and they get it. Or none of those things happen but at the end of the day they hug you tight and tell you they love you and you realize they don't care if they're dirty, or if they ate fries for dinner and they don't remember you losing your temper they just love you and they are happy to be alive and ready to get up and love you all over again. They don't keep score, they don't hold grudges, and it never occurs to them that you might be failing at anything. So next time you feel like a failure ask yourself who is telling you that; I promise it's not that little guy looking up at you calling you mommy.
That's the funny thing about motherhood. You know you aren't alone, that there are millions of moms out there doing the same thing you are. Millions of us, around the world, that get up and think about everyone but ourselves for hours (sometimes days) at a time. We forgo the shower, sniff our clothes to see if we can wear them one more time, get our exercise while wearing people, or while navigating yoga poses around the toddler asking for goldfish with no regard to your concerns about maintaining a decent heart rate. We think about dinner with a looming dread as soon as we get the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher; we coordinate schedules, and clean toilets (and if you have boys this mostly consists of constantly cleaning the pee off the floor and never quite eradicating the odor it leaves behind); we teach, entertain, referee, and on a good day save time and energy to listen to (or on a really good day have sex with) our husbands. We are not alone and yet most women often feel like they are the only ones that don't love this job every second, the only ones that feel frustration or guilt or shame about the mistakes we make, the only one that dreams about running away without telling any one and escaping to Mexico where there are free-flowing margaritas and sun and quiet.
So today I thought I would give you a peek into just a few of my mistakes, the things I feel guilty about and the habits I convince myself no one else has. Hopefully it will remind you you are not alone, or at least convince you that your kids are better off then mine!
Television:
The Rule: No TV on weekdays for the school-aged children and no TV for the little ones until after nap time.
What Really Happens: My sad attempt at craft time ends with paint all over the floor and my clean shirt (which I was planning on wearing for 2 more days) the 3 year old hits the 2 year old with his paint brush, she screams and pours her paint out on the table meanwhile the baby pulls the plastic table cloth (where incidentally none of the spilled paint has ended up) so hard that the water cups spill until finally I pick up all the paint brushes and say as cheerfully as I can through gritted teeth "who wants to watch a Curious George?"
Sugar
The Rule: No sugar during the day and only in the evening if you have finished your dinner with a cheerful attitude.
What Really Happens: We have a busy morning with 2 doctors visits and remarkably everyone has held it together, then I remember that I have to get bread and milk or there will be nothing for lunches and I will have to go to the store at 8:30pm when I am half asleep, and I'll end up buying Ben and Jerry's and 7 other things I do not need. So we brave the isles and all is well for about 2 minutes, until the toddlers start fighting and the baby starts crying and before you know it I have closed their mouth holes with 2 donuts and pretend we are running "for fun" to the back of the store where they strategically keep the milk so that desperate mothers like me will end up buying donuts, at noon, before they feed their kids lunch.
Fast Food
The Rule: I will cook dinner a minimum of 6 days a week and it will be balanced and healthy and if you don't like it you can have a PBJ or go hungry.
What Really Happens: I forgot to thaw the hamburger for the tacos, and didn't really want that anyway, and then my husband is unexpectedly delayed at work. I consider the groans I'll get when I put said taco meet in front of a toddler and then I decide it would be easier to pile the kids in the car and drive through Wendy's. I'll cut up an apple or something and then it will be balanced, right? At least the baby will get a good meal...would you like a side of fries with that breast milk?
Yelling
The Rule: We do not raise our voices to each other; we do not yell to get our way; mommy will only yell when you are in danger and not when she is angry.
What actually happens: Eight-year-old yells at six-year-old, six-year-old whines and cries, three-year-old pushes six-year-old and suddenly eight-year-old is defending six-year-old by yelling at three-year-old to stop. Two-year-old wants juice, we don't have juice, two-year-old starts screaming and moaning while the aforementioned three-year-old hits the aforementioned eight-year-old and the noise and chaos wakes the sleeping 9 month old. I decide they are in danger, of being strangled, and I yell "EVERYONE STOP YELLING RIGHT THIS MINUTE!" I threaten to take away TV, video games, food, water, a soft bed and give every toy they own to the poor, and finally they stop....for now.
Bathing
The Rule: Big kids shower a minimum of four days a week, babies get baths every other night, or nightly if particularly dirty at the end of the day.
What Really Happens: It's the end of the day in a series of many long days, I realize the big boys haven't showered in 3 days so I sniff their hair and decide they can go one more day if it means they will be in bed sooner. I am nursing the baby and notice some unidentifiable crust behind his ear and realize I cannot remember the last time he had a bath so I give him a good scrub with a wipe and promise to get him and his stinky sister in the tub tomorrow.
Then there's bribing (do it), family prayer time (do it every night, but hardly ever make it through more than 1 decade of the rosary and that is usually painful or it's one Our Father and a kiss goodnight), house work (don't do it enough; my 9 month old ate at least 1/4 cup of old cheerios off the floor today before I knew what was happening), quality time (does diaper changing count? or signing homework folders?) reading (we are half way through The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, and the Hobbit, and Charlotte's Web...my six-year-old has taken it upon himself to finish these without me). You get the point.
But then, there's all the laughter and the moments where their character and kindness show through all the chaos. There are the nights when you do all sit down to dinner and they eat it, when you do all pray and they mean it, when they listen to the story and they get it. Or none of those things happen but at the end of the day they hug you tight and tell you they love you and you realize they don't care if they're dirty, or if they ate fries for dinner and they don't remember you losing your temper they just love you and they are happy to be alive and ready to get up and love you all over again. They don't keep score, they don't hold grudges, and it never occurs to them that you might be failing at anything. So next time you feel like a failure ask yourself who is telling you that; I promise it's not that little guy looking up at you calling you mommy.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Does This Baby Make Me Look Fat?
Ever since starting this blog I have considered tackling the all consuming topics of beauty, body image and self esteem. But where to start? There are so many things wrong with the way our culture views beauty, and so many influences and ideals bombarding us every day that it's hard to know where to begin. But I would like to consider for a moment why I am constantly left with the unshakable feeling that I am not okay the way I am. I try to limit the amount of "secular beauty" I see. I don't read fashion magazines any more, I don't follow celebrity gossip, but all it takes is watching one re-run of Friends to spawn a litany of insults in me head as I contemplate how ugly and inadequate I am. Because no matter how hard I work out, or how little I eat I will never have Jennifer Aniston's ass..ets.
It struck me recently while having dinner with a group of women that our minds are so disordered we have become completely incapable of seeing ourselves the way we really are, but we can appreciate and even exaggerate beauty in others without a second thought. These women are some of the most beautiful women I know and I often imagine what I would look like if I had the time and resources they have to commit to my personal appearance: gym memberships, trainers, nutritionists, childcare. But even they are left feeling like they have to explain why they are "letting" themselves eat a tortilla chip. We are so imprisoned to this idea of beauty that we can't even eat any more without feeling guilty (consider how often Christ draws our attention to the importance of eating, feasting and fellowship. It is meant to be a gift). And then there's all the unhealthy and obsessive comparison that echoes through the chamber of our minds while in the presence of other women: "her waist is so much smaller than mine," "how does she make her arms look so fit?" "I wish my legs looked like that," "I never look like that 3 months after I have a baby," "I nurse my baby too, but I stay fat to do it" And then I think about how unfair it is that so and so has had just as many kids as me and yet she weighs 20 pounds less, or I work out five days a week and count my calories but skinny minny over there eats whatever she wants and says she never exercises. Oh, the cruel injustice, the pure suffering! My. Life. Is. So. Hard.
Or am I just creating this suffering for myself? Is this a cross I just keep fashioning and schlepping around, praying that God will take it from me but resolved that the only "right" answer to that prayer is to make me look like Jennifer Aniston? Of course at this stage in my life I don't care about looking like a celebrity (any more), but I battle to get the looming image of my 22 year-old self out of my head.
I think we have to ask ourselves two questions:
Who set this ridiculous standard? and Who am I disappointing if I don't live up to it?
And the answer to both, is ME.
My husband thinks I am beautiful. I know he genuinely, wholeheartedly thinks that I am gorgeous, and breathtaking, sexy, and strong and perfect just the way I am. He loves me with my stretch marks and my loose skin, when I am my thinnest and my heaviest. He sees ME, just me.
My kids think I am beautiful. They love my soft skin and my long hair. I hate my huge, ridiculous milk-laden breasts, but they give my children life and sustenance and it has never occurred to them to think they make me look fat. They notice when I dress up and when I put lip gloss on before their daddy comes home and they think I am beautiful.
So why on earth have I convinced myself that I am less then because I do not weigh what I did 15 years ago? And why the heck do I think I should look the way I did when I had no children, a flexible schedule, a gym membership and a 20 year-old's metabolism? Why do I waste so much energy thinking about my next strategy to lose those last 10 pounds?---and who are we kidding if I lose 10 I will just set a goal for 10 more. My husband and my children are my whole life; I would gladly, freely, without hesitation, die for any one of them and yet I let some stranger on a tabloid, flaunting her post-baby-body make me feel badly about my tummy that leaves people always asking "is she pregnant again?"
We are at war. The devil is a nasty, evil bastard out to rob us of all that is good and true and holy. I teach my children to put on the armor of God, to guard themselves against the snares of the enemy, to call on St Michael and all the angels to protect them in battle, and yet every single day, I give him ground in this area of my life. I believe the lie that I am ugly, or fat, or not good enough because I haven't gotten down to some arbitrary number on a stupid scale. Do I spend nearly as much time praying? No. Helping others? No. Cultivating virtue in my children? Probably not. If I am not actively trying to lose weight I am creating an action plan for how I will start losing soon. And I spend an absurd amount of time imagining how much happier I will be when I finally get to that magic number. I recently came across some old photos of myself in a stack of forgotten memories and of course the first thing I did was bemoan that I had aged, and then began wishing I just weighed that again. Just as quickly I remembered the moment when that picture was taken and recalled that I thought I was fat then, or I didn't want my picture taken because I still had 5 lbs to lose. Absurd! What a waste of time and energy and what a shame that I am constantly telling God (not to mention my poor husband) that I am not good enough.
Now I am not saying weight doesn't matter at all. We need to be good stewards of our bodies, we need to take care of the temple of the Holy Spirit that God gave us. We need to be prudent, and responsible. But we also need to be content when we do all those things and are still a size 10, or 12, or 22. This is clearly where our culture doesn't help AT ALL. Babies and pregnancy are only celebrated if you barely gain while your pregnant and look like you never had a baby when it's all over. You can make a lot of money as a celebrity if you were once fat but aren't any more. Occasionally Hollywood will give an Oscar, or an Emmy to a "full-figured" woman touting the mantra that women are beautiful at any size, but give them 6 months and Jenny Craig or Weight Watchers will get a hold of them and they'll get 10 times the work and attention because now they are really beautiful. Again, it is so disordered. Why don't we praise women for the tell-tale pooch that tells the world you have given life to an eternal soul? Why don't we pity the perfect bodied 40 year old who only looks that way because she has never known the joy of motherhood? Why does no one envy the breasts of a woman who has let them be stretched and pulled and changed with the life-giving grasp of a babies perfect mouth? We have allowed the Prince of Lies to dictate the standard of Beauty. We have been so indoctrinated and inundated with this lie that we cannot even see the truth as the truth any more.
Eve was created as the zenith of creation. She was God's final, beautiful artistic gesture to say now it is finished; now it is very good. Woman, in any shape and size, is God's most beautiful creation; his masterpiece, so of course the devil is out to destroy it. Not only are we God's masterpiece but we are the link to the expansion and creation of the kingdom of God on earth. He entrusted our bodies, the ones we so often loathe, to the creation of mankind. He entrusted a woman's body to the human creation of his only son.
But why else would the enemy target us so persistently? Think how distracted we are by this issue. Think about all the wasted energy, the fear, the sheer amount of time we spend trying to live up to a fabricated standard of beauty. Would we pray more? serve more? Spend more time making beautiful meals, surrounded by community and family, sitting around a crowded table with happy faces and full tummies without worrying about the number of calories that in each serving? And what about the effect it has on our relationships? We can't accept compliments from our girlfriends and even more damaging we don't believe our husbands when they say they love us the way we are. It creates distance and tension in relationships that would otherwise be edified by accepting the truth. For me, it taints the gift of children because I dread so much the inevitable gaining of weight and the increasingly arduous effort it takes to lose that weight, and we have a culture full of women who will admit they are hesitant to have children because of what it will do to their bodies. We have no perspective of the eternal, our hearts are restless and confused.
Sadly, I can say all these things, and even believe them but that does not win the war that plays out in my head every day. I know not every woman struggles to the same degree, and I marvel at women who seem to accept themselves the way they are, but sadly they are few and far between, and often when I think I have met someone who doesn't struggle with this issue, after getting to know her I discover that she falls prey just like the rest of us.
So what can we do? I think a good start is to speak the truth, to guard our hearts and minds and to pray like crazy that God changes the way we see ourselves, that he redefines what we think to be beautiful, and that he gives us the tools, the wisdom, and the words to hand down to our sons and daughters so that the vicious cycle of lies can be broken. I pray every day that God will guard my daughters (and my sons) from the poor example I set with my constant disquietude concerning my body and that before I form their habits and minds he will order my mind and soul to strive for true beauty, the kind that quiets a spirit, gives life with generosity, shelters and protects, and provides a haven for true gifts and talents to be discovered, to be a reflection of God's indelible beauty, a true masterpiece.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Have You Thanked St Joseph Today?
Today is one of my all-time favorite feast days, the Feast of St. Joseph. Not only does it fall right in the middle of Lent when we are all facing our weaknesses and failures head on every day, thinking about that brownie we can't have or the TV show we said we wouldn't watch, but it also comes on the wings of expected Spring as we imagine new beginnings, the end of the cold dormant winter, and the possibility of all things new.
So aside from eating a big pasta dinner followed by a super non-Lenten dessert what else might we consider on this beautiful day in our liturgical calendar?
St Joseph, or St Joe as we affectionately refer to him in our house, is the patron saint of fathers, workers, carpenters, and social justice not to mention a handful of countries, the Universal Church, and a happy death. He's the go-to guy for everything and everyone. Now if you're new to this whole patron saint thing, or have never really understood why Catholics pray to saints you may be praying for my soul and the soul of my family right now that we will be delivered from idolatry and superstition and find our way back to Christ. I would never ask anyone to stop praying for me and my family but let me assure you it is not idolatry or superstition; it is one of the greatest blessings of our Catholic faith and as a convert it has always been something I really cherish.
Christ conquered death on the cross, and when he did that he erased all power that death holds on all things, including my ability to commune with those who are dead. We are all one in Christ, one in is His body striving for holiness waiting to be in His presence forever. So why wouldn't I ask those closest to him, the ones already worshiping at His feet, to pray for me?` St Joseph is especially close to him and so we go to him a lot.
Today I am especially aware of St Joseph's example as husband and foster-father of Christ and find myself full of gratitude for his influence on my husband's life (my hero of a husband who spent half of last night up with two crying tonsilless boys even though he had to go to work today and have patience for other people's children). Jesus is of course our primary example, but Joseph gives us a picture of an earthly husband and father striving for holiness, living selflessly for his family.
My husband has had a devotion to St Joseph for years now. He found refuge in his example and prayers most especially when I was very sick and he faced all the normal stress as father and provider along with the helplessness that comes with watching someone you love suffer. I saw St. Joseph transform my already impressive husband into a man more like Christ, full of humility and love and more at peace in all the troubling circumstances of life. Having grown up Protestant and still being new to this whole devotion-to-saints thing, it was the first time I witnessed obvious change in someone based on the devotion and influence of a saint. And why wouldn't hours in prayer and conversation with another change us? I am constantly watchful of who my children hang out with, especially our teenage daughter, always listening to see if their influences are positive and good, because the people we spend time with shape us. What a tremendous gift it is to have recourse to the saints! We can literally spend time with St Joseph. We can ask for guidance and insight from the man who in the face of ridicule and loss of his reputation stood by his betrothed and lived in obedience to God in all things and humbly accepted the vocation of raising the Son of God as his own. Parenting is daunting enough but can you imagine thinking it's God's son you are potentially sending to therapy? I have seen his influence and his example soften my husband, make him even more humble and kind, I have seen it bring peace and quiet to his spirit and I have seen him countless times, like Joseph, accept the vocation God has given him in the face of ridicule and misunderstanding as he meekly walks in obedience and fiercely leads our family to heaven. I watch him work tirelessly on our behalf, no job too small, nothing beneath him and accept that work as a gift from God and a chance to make him more like Christ; Our Lord who also knew the toil of the common man, the callouses of hard labor and the joy of work, a virtue he learned by example alongside his earthly father.
So today I thank God for St Joseph and by extension I thank St. Joseph for his friendship to my husband, for his faithfulness to our family and for his prayers on the behalf of fathers and the fatherless. Each year I pray that we will grow in our devotion to Christ and his Saints and not allow ourselves to get lost in the busyness of life so much that we forget the endless resources of the Faithful. What a beautiful reminder that no matter how we feel we can take comfort in the truth that we are never alone, for not only will Christ never leave us or forsake us but all the saints in heaven are waging war for our souls as well.
St Joseph pray for us!
So aside from eating a big pasta dinner followed by a super non-Lenten dessert what else might we consider on this beautiful day in our liturgical calendar?
St Joseph, or St Joe as we affectionately refer to him in our house, is the patron saint of fathers, workers, carpenters, and social justice not to mention a handful of countries, the Universal Church, and a happy death. He's the go-to guy for everything and everyone. Now if you're new to this whole patron saint thing, or have never really understood why Catholics pray to saints you may be praying for my soul and the soul of my family right now that we will be delivered from idolatry and superstition and find our way back to Christ. I would never ask anyone to stop praying for me and my family but let me assure you it is not idolatry or superstition; it is one of the greatest blessings of our Catholic faith and as a convert it has always been something I really cherish.
Christ conquered death on the cross, and when he did that he erased all power that death holds on all things, including my ability to commune with those who are dead. We are all one in Christ, one in is His body striving for holiness waiting to be in His presence forever. So why wouldn't I ask those closest to him, the ones already worshiping at His feet, to pray for me?` St Joseph is especially close to him and so we go to him a lot.
Today I am especially aware of St Joseph's example as husband and foster-father of Christ and find myself full of gratitude for his influence on my husband's life (my hero of a husband who spent half of last night up with two crying tonsilless boys even though he had to go to work today and have patience for other people's children). Jesus is of course our primary example, but Joseph gives us a picture of an earthly husband and father striving for holiness, living selflessly for his family.
My husband has had a devotion to St Joseph for years now. He found refuge in his example and prayers most especially when I was very sick and he faced all the normal stress as father and provider along with the helplessness that comes with watching someone you love suffer. I saw St. Joseph transform my already impressive husband into a man more like Christ, full of humility and love and more at peace in all the troubling circumstances of life. Having grown up Protestant and still being new to this whole devotion-to-saints thing, it was the first time I witnessed obvious change in someone based on the devotion and influence of a saint. And why wouldn't hours in prayer and conversation with another change us? I am constantly watchful of who my children hang out with, especially our teenage daughter, always listening to see if their influences are positive and good, because the people we spend time with shape us. What a tremendous gift it is to have recourse to the saints! We can literally spend time with St Joseph. We can ask for guidance and insight from the man who in the face of ridicule and loss of his reputation stood by his betrothed and lived in obedience to God in all things and humbly accepted the vocation of raising the Son of God as his own. Parenting is daunting enough but can you imagine thinking it's God's son you are potentially sending to therapy? I have seen his influence and his example soften my husband, make him even more humble and kind, I have seen it bring peace and quiet to his spirit and I have seen him countless times, like Joseph, accept the vocation God has given him in the face of ridicule and misunderstanding as he meekly walks in obedience and fiercely leads our family to heaven. I watch him work tirelessly on our behalf, no job too small, nothing beneath him and accept that work as a gift from God and a chance to make him more like Christ; Our Lord who also knew the toil of the common man, the callouses of hard labor and the joy of work, a virtue he learned by example alongside his earthly father.
So today I thank God for St Joseph and by extension I thank St. Joseph for his friendship to my husband, for his faithfulness to our family and for his prayers on the behalf of fathers and the fatherless. Each year I pray that we will grow in our devotion to Christ and his Saints and not allow ourselves to get lost in the busyness of life so much that we forget the endless resources of the Faithful. What a beautiful reminder that no matter how we feel we can take comfort in the truth that we are never alone, for not only will Christ never leave us or forsake us but all the saints in heaven are waging war for our souls as well.
St Joseph pray for us!
Friday, March 9, 2012
Things I Never Thought I'd Say
We've all been there. We are in a heated moment with our children, we're frustrated and tired and dying to just have them obey, or stop arguing and trust you, and the next thing we know the voice of our mother is being channeled through our own mouths and out come the words "because I said so!," or "you'll thank me later," or "that's exactly why I told you that was a bad idea."
But then there are days that I laugh out loud because I cannot believe the things that are coming out of my mouth. I was looking through some old journals the other day and found these lines I had written down for prosperity. These were the days when it was all-littles-all-the-time. Sometimes I really miss these day, but mostly I remember how tired I was all the time. To you moms' in the trenches: you will come out on the other side!
The following are my top 9 favorites of recent memory: (I know it would make more sense if there were 10, but I am too tired to think of any more and I risk just making things up to make you laugh).
9. Please don't climb that tree with scissors in your mouth.
8. No you cannot jump off the bed onto your brother's shoulders.
7. Please don't sit on the baby's head and fart; I don't care if he's laughing there is no way he actually likes it.
6. (To a screaming three year old holding a ruler) Please stop crying, I didn't know you wanted to measure the poop before mommy flushed it down the potty.
5. Yes, it's true when I was growing up there was no such thing as a DVR, and no it was not 66 years ago.
4. (To the three year old riding his bike in front of the house) It's 45 degrees outside where are your pants...and underwear?
3. No you cannot give up your little brother for Lent.
2. Is that peanut butter or poop on the bathroom floor? Oh thank goodness, it's peanut butter!!
Is that peanut butter or poop on the bathroom floor? Oh thank goodness, it's peanut butter!!
Comment and tell us the craziest things to come out of your mouth lately! We know every day is full of surprises!
But then there are days that I laugh out loud because I cannot believe the things that are coming out of my mouth. I was looking through some old journals the other day and found these lines I had written down for prosperity. These were the days when it was all-littles-all-the-time. Sometimes I really miss these day, but mostly I remember how tired I was all the time. To you moms' in the trenches: you will come out on the other side!
The following are my top 9 favorites of recent memory: (I know it would make more sense if there were 10, but I am too tired to think of any more and I risk just making things up to make you laugh).
9. Please don't climb that tree with scissors in your mouth.
8. No you cannot jump off the bed onto your brother's shoulders.
7. Please don't sit on the baby's head and fart; I don't care if he's laughing there is no way he actually likes it.
6. (To a screaming three year old holding a ruler) Please stop crying, I didn't know you wanted to measure the poop before mommy flushed it down the potty.
5. Yes, it's true when I was growing up there was no such thing as a DVR, and no it was not 66 years ago.
4. (To the three year old riding his bike in front of the house) It's 45 degrees outside where are your pants...and underwear?
3. No you cannot give up your little brother for Lent.
2. Is that peanut butter or poop on the bathroom floor? Oh thank goodness, it's peanut butter!!
Is that peanut butter or poop on the bathroom floor? Oh thank goodness, it's peanut butter!!
Comment and tell us the craziest things to come out of your mouth lately! We know every day is full of surprises!
Friday, March 2, 2012
The business of sex and babies
*** I have been working on this post for a couple of days and since starting it the HHS mandate
was upheld in the Senate. Although that is not what this post is really about I feel I must say
that we are called to pray more than ever, regardless of our opinions on birth control or
church teaching, because this is an issue that will certainly threaten the liberty of us all.
There is a lot of talk going around right now about sex and the Church. Granted the conversation is more directly about contraception, abortion, and what I think is the real issue, religious freedom, but it cannot be discussed without people scratching their heads trying to figure out why the Church hates women and sex so much. Clearly, we are an antiquated people, run by a hierarchy of men who have set out to dictate our sexual practices, rob us of our liberty and force us into being overly procreative so that the Church can live on. Or wait, is it just that these old men in funny hats hate sex? Or is it pleasure they hate? No wait it's just women and "choice." I will not get into the political ramifications of this whole HHS debacle but suffice it to say it is a slippery slope when the leader of the free world begins to usurp its citizens of their constitutional rights in the name of "choice," and if gone unchecked it will only be a matter of time before the government is dictating the "acceptable" framework in which a family can be raised not to mention limiting the amount of people we are allowed to create.
I realize that with the issue of birth control Catholics become very isolated in their opinions, and it spawns a myriad of responses from people on all sides. My side is very Catholic and I unapologetically defend the Church's teaching on this matter (something that I know many of my protestant brothers and sisters will not understand). I do not mean to get into the specifics of the teaching at this time, but rather consider briefly and honestly how hard it can be to live by this teaching and that is okay to admit that. The hardship comes not just for the people who don't want kids, or who want to have sex without consequences (although there is a large contingent of people who do not like being told that they just might be selfish) it is bigger than that. For me, and for many people I know, the recent attention on the Church has forced us to ask ourselves if we trust her, if we can wholeheartedly embrace her teaching even in the face of complicated and nuanced situations, and ultimately, do we trust Christ and the authority he gives the Church in our lives?
was upheld in the Senate. Although that is not what this post is really about I feel I must say
that we are called to pray more than ever, regardless of our opinions on birth control or
church teaching, because this is an issue that will certainly threaten the liberty of us all.
There is a lot of talk going around right now about sex and the Church. Granted the conversation is more directly about contraception, abortion, and what I think is the real issue, religious freedom, but it cannot be discussed without people scratching their heads trying to figure out why the Church hates women and sex so much. Clearly, we are an antiquated people, run by a hierarchy of men who have set out to dictate our sexual practices, rob us of our liberty and force us into being overly procreative so that the Church can live on. Or wait, is it just that these old men in funny hats hate sex? Or is it pleasure they hate? No wait it's just women and "choice." I will not get into the political ramifications of this whole HHS debacle but suffice it to say it is a slippery slope when the leader of the free world begins to usurp its citizens of their constitutional rights in the name of "choice," and if gone unchecked it will only be a matter of time before the government is dictating the "acceptable" framework in which a family can be raised not to mention limiting the amount of people we are allowed to create.
All the political ramifications aside, this frantic discussion from every side has lead me to ponder even more deeply the tenants of the faith and ask myself why I agree with Mother Church on these "delicate" issues. Mind you, we consider them particularly delicate because, as a culture, we are fundamentally opposed to the idea that anyone has the right to tell me what is right for me. Catholic or Protestant, Agnostic or Atheist, Muslim or Jew, we are a self indulgent, entitled people and have been conditioned to buck the second someone tells us what to do. We thrive on non-confrontational moral relativism that permeates every area of our affluent American lives.
Even those of us who identify ourselves strongly with our faith often struggle with the ability to speak in absolutes when facing someone who adamantly opposes our world view. This may be because we do not understand our faith well enough to defend it, or it may be because we are so afraid of offending someone that we instinctively pad our comments with this-is-what-works-for-me jargon. However, if we chisel past the superficial arguments and get to the heart of the matter it is a complicated, multi-faceted issue and we all know someone whose circumstances and sufferings make this teaching hard to live.
Even those of us who identify ourselves strongly with our faith often struggle with the ability to speak in absolutes when facing someone who adamantly opposes our world view. This may be because we do not understand our faith well enough to defend it, or it may be because we are so afraid of offending someone that we instinctively pad our comments with this-is-what-works-for-me jargon. However, if we chisel past the superficial arguments and get to the heart of the matter it is a complicated, multi-faceted issue and we all know someone whose circumstances and sufferings make this teaching hard to live.
I realize that with the issue of birth control Catholics become very isolated in their opinions, and it spawns a myriad of responses from people on all sides. My side is very Catholic and I unapologetically defend the Church's teaching on this matter (something that I know many of my protestant brothers and sisters will not understand). I do not mean to get into the specifics of the teaching at this time, but rather consider briefly and honestly how hard it can be to live by this teaching and that is okay to admit that. The hardship comes not just for the people who don't want kids, or who want to have sex without consequences (although there is a large contingent of people who do not like being told that they just might be selfish) it is bigger than that. For me, and for many people I know, the recent attention on the Church has forced us to ask ourselves if we trust her, if we can wholeheartedly embrace her teaching even in the face of complicated and nuanced situations, and ultimately, do we trust Christ and the authority he gives the Church in our lives?
When my husband and I first got married we were an instant family of 3. We had a unique dating life because a sweet five-year-old girl had always been a part of it (she even went on our first date with us!). We were excited to have more children right away and were surprised and blessed by how quickly I became pregnant. Eight months after our first son was born I found myself pregnant again and although I shed a tear or two when that plus sign turned up on the stick I was thrilled and ready to face the challenge. My response was also not without hubris, considering how open to life we looked, how Catholic we were. I cringe to think of the times I judged others for the size of their family before I really understood the countless circumstances and considerations that go into family planning, not to mention all the things that go unseen and unsaid like infertility and miscarriage. It wasn't until I got very sick after our second son was born that NFP and the teaching of contraception became very personal and real. I found myself 4 months post partum and bed-ridden, and this went on for 15 months. The severity of my illness would ebb and flow a bit but it was clearly not the time to have another baby. I struggled with guilt that I wasn't being "open to life" because my husband and I were very carefully using NFP to the point where we sometimes felt like we were living a celibate marriage. Thankfully, we were able to learn about and understand my cycle and return to a normal and stress-free sex life without feeling guilty for not having more babies right away. I remember finding comfort in Blessed John Paul II's words:
Unfortunately, Catholic thought is often misunderstood ... as if the Church supported an ideology of fertility at all costs, urging married couples to procreate indiscriminately and without thought for the future. But one need only study the pronouncements of the Magisterium to know that this is not so.
Truly, in begetting life the spouses fulfill one of the highest dimensions of their calling: they are God’s co-workers. Precisely for this reason they must have an extremely responsible attitude. In deciding whether or not to have a child, they must not be motivated by selfishness or carelessness, but by a prudent, conscious generosity that weighs the possibilities and circumstances, and especially gives priority to the welfare of the unborn child. Therefore, when there is a reason not to procreate, this choice is permissible and may even be necessary. (emphasis mine)---1994 Castel Gondolfo
This is the first thing that I think is often lost in the discussion of the Church's position on family planning. There is a huge misunderstanding that we Catholics just have babies because we have to, because if we don't we'll go to hell, or be seen as selfish, and unfortunately we often make one another feel that way! Some of us are called to have large families and some of us are not. The church offers us an alternative to a family of 15 children and recognizes that not everyone is called to that and Natural Family Planning is it's loving gift.
I do believe that; that NFP is a loving beautiful gift, that God made the female body to operate in such a way that we can predict fertility and we can live within the cyclical nature of that fertility and live happy, fulfilled lives and marriages. I also know that it's just not always that easy. Our bodies were made to be predictable and our fertility cyclical yet ironically the act of child-bearing and birth alters those patterns and it can take months or years for those patterns to be predictable again. There are woman whose cycles are super predictable and obvious and as long as they chart they can abstain 5-7 days a month and be a-okay. Then there's the rest of us!
Without digressing too much, let me just say that for most people NFPing is not easy and not always simple and certainly not without anxiety and stress. I am there now. Eight months post partum with irregular cycles and paralyzed by the fear of getting pregnant again. Surely that is not what God wants...right!? We are a family of 8, living in a 2 bedroom house, on a teacher's salary. Believe me, the whole world is telling us to take a break! But this is where the gift and mystery of fertility meets the supremacy of our will and the injustice of a fallen and sinful world. This is where it gets tricky; this is when we want to believe that God would not judge us for contracepting.
Yes, we serve a Providential God, but he gives us a will and the ability to make powerful, life-giving decisions. He is also merciful and loving and forgiving and for the couple who feels no other choice but to use birth control I truly sympathize and I know that there is compassion and mercy in the arms of God. It is not an unpardonable sin; it is another way in which God is calling us to love and trust Him in a way that sometimes feels impossible; it is another path to holiness. Do not judge the person you know using birth control pray for them that they would see that God has something better in mind, something that opens them up to a greater understanding of His love and prepares them for heaven.
And yet, the Church is unmistakably clear on this issue, regardless of what many people are saying. And although I find myself wanting to argue the reasons and simultaneously wrestling with those reasons on a personal level I am left with one thing: I trust the Church. I know it sounds a bit cliche, and perhaps over simplified, but I trust 2000 plus years of tradition and I trust the men in funny hats who have dedicated their lives to listening to the Holy Spirit and standing in opposition to a world that hates life and assigns value according to usefulness. At the end of the day I would rather err on the side of life, on the side of the Church.
Granted, if I were to find myself pregnant any time soon I would throw a huge fit, spiral into a place of self doubt and anger, all the while wrestling with the idea of God's supreme goodness. And then I would open my heart and arms and have new baby, and would be scary and wonderful and hard. I trust that this is really what Christ is asking of us, and that he is aware of all the hardship and struggle it brings with it. I also have to remember that sometimes we are just called to obey, and we have to be careful not to blame God for the injustices of the world that are a result of a fallen world, not an incomplete or unloving God. Fertility can be a cruel, dichotomous bitch. Good, godly, people who would welcome a fleet of children suffocate with the pain of infertility while a teenage crack-head abandons a baby in trash can. You can lose yourself and your faith in the injustice of it all, but Christ beckons us to lose ourselves in the reality of His unchanging love instead. We have to remember that he is a loving Father and that he is never cruel, and just as our children often do not see the reason behind our requirements and kick and scream when we hold them to it, we too are often waiting for the scales to fall from our eyes so that we can truly see.
None of the "rules" of our faith are there for any other reason than for our good. Sometimes we just have to stop kicking and screaming long enough to give the Holy Spirit the ability to make the way of Christ clear. It doesn't mean we'll like it, or that it will be easy but we just might find some peace, and hopefully we will find our way to heaven where we will see all things clearly.
Without digressing too much, let me just say that for most people NFPing is not easy and not always simple and certainly not without anxiety and stress. I am there now. Eight months post partum with irregular cycles and paralyzed by the fear of getting pregnant again. Surely that is not what God wants...right!? We are a family of 8, living in a 2 bedroom house, on a teacher's salary. Believe me, the whole world is telling us to take a break! But this is where the gift and mystery of fertility meets the supremacy of our will and the injustice of a fallen and sinful world. This is where it gets tricky; this is when we want to believe that God would not judge us for contracepting.
Yes, we serve a Providential God, but he gives us a will and the ability to make powerful, life-giving decisions. He is also merciful and loving and forgiving and for the couple who feels no other choice but to use birth control I truly sympathize and I know that there is compassion and mercy in the arms of God. It is not an unpardonable sin; it is another way in which God is calling us to love and trust Him in a way that sometimes feels impossible; it is another path to holiness. Do not judge the person you know using birth control pray for them that they would see that God has something better in mind, something that opens them up to a greater understanding of His love and prepares them for heaven.
And yet, the Church is unmistakably clear on this issue, regardless of what many people are saying. And although I find myself wanting to argue the reasons and simultaneously wrestling with those reasons on a personal level I am left with one thing: I trust the Church. I know it sounds a bit cliche, and perhaps over simplified, but I trust 2000 plus years of tradition and I trust the men in funny hats who have dedicated their lives to listening to the Holy Spirit and standing in opposition to a world that hates life and assigns value according to usefulness. At the end of the day I would rather err on the side of life, on the side of the Church.
Granted, if I were to find myself pregnant any time soon I would throw a huge fit, spiral into a place of self doubt and anger, all the while wrestling with the idea of God's supreme goodness. And then I would open my heart and arms and have new baby, and would be scary and wonderful and hard. I trust that this is really what Christ is asking of us, and that he is aware of all the hardship and struggle it brings with it. I also have to remember that sometimes we are just called to obey, and we have to be careful not to blame God for the injustices of the world that are a result of a fallen world, not an incomplete or unloving God. Fertility can be a cruel, dichotomous bitch. Good, godly, people who would welcome a fleet of children suffocate with the pain of infertility while a teenage crack-head abandons a baby in trash can. You can lose yourself and your faith in the injustice of it all, but Christ beckons us to lose ourselves in the reality of His unchanging love instead. We have to remember that he is a loving Father and that he is never cruel, and just as our children often do not see the reason behind our requirements and kick and scream when we hold them to it, we too are often waiting for the scales to fall from our eyes so that we can truly see.
None of the "rules" of our faith are there for any other reason than for our good. Sometimes we just have to stop kicking and screaming long enough to give the Holy Spirit the ability to make the way of Christ clear. It doesn't mean we'll like it, or that it will be easy but we just might find some peace, and hopefully we will find our way to heaven where we will see all things clearly.
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