The other day I stood in my bedroom in a state of half undress listening to three children asking for help, one infant crying and a shower running in the bathroom.
I was 6 days post c-section, nursing a spinal headache and trying like hell to be strategic about how long I was on my feet for before laying flat again.
Carolynn needed help getting her schoolwork started for the day, Emmy needed to get toothpaste on her tooth brush so she would be ready to go to school, Madi wanted her pull up off and Rae wanted to eat. My boobs were aching and engorged because I had decided I wanted to shower first before pumping. But this decision would mean they would ache for another hour since I would need to lay flat and rest after being up to shower.
I stood there, half undressed overwhelmed by how difficult simple tasks had become because my body needed rest. Tanner came upstairs and saw me looking flustered. He jumped right in and I cried in the shower.
I cried because what normally would take me 5 minutes to knock everything out except for pumping was now just impossible to do. My abdominal incision felt great but my head was forcing me to slow down.
I laid on my couch the rest of the morning after finishing homeschool in the recliner with Carolynn. And I felt miserable, not my headache but my loss of hope. How was I supposed to bond with my baby, be a mother to my kids and wife to my husband while laying flat all day?
Why is it so hard, as mothers, to ask for help when we need it? Why is it so hard to accept help when we need it?
The moment my in-laws arrived I felt the need to sit up and chat. Not because they expected this of me, they actually came over solely to help with the kids. But because I feel the need to always be on, all the time.
My parents had kept the kids all weekend at their campsite knowing I would struggle with this. My mom knows me so well. They came to visit in the evenings but my mom was adamant I not move from the couch and frequently gave me that knowing mom look she so often gave me as a child.
I’m now a little over two weeks from delivery and as long as I don’t do too much I feel almost normal! It took just over a week for my headache to subside. But again I’m feeling this pressure, from no one other than myself, to do more. To do the laundry, clean the bathroom, organize homeschool, go on a walk in the morning, maybe try a jog, cook meals and cancel the scheduled meal train set up for us, play in the yard with the kids and love on my husband for all he did for me these last two weeks.
But, my body isn’t there yet.
Why do we struggle with this? Surely I’m not the only one. There is a song by Matthew West called “Truth be Told” and man does it hit the nail right on the head.
I say I’m fine, yeah I’m fine, oh I’m fine, hey I’m fine but I’m not.
I can’t tell you how many times people ask me “how are you?!?” And my immediate response is some surface level answer “living the dream” “managing the chaos” “surviving is thriving” some catchy corny motherhood phrase we all laugh about.
But I’m struck by my immediate response. Because a few weeks ago one of my closest friends posted about fighting depression on her social media. I reached out and asked how she was doing but instantly followed with “and give me a real answer, not a bullshit I’m fine answer”. We had a real conversation about how we were both really doing.
This is one of my very best friends. She is like a sister to me! She knew I was pregnant before my husband with two of my kids! And even then, even with our close relationship I still had to tell her not to give me a surface level answer!
Why is it so hard to admit when we aren’t fine? When things aren’t perfect, when we aren’t living a dream we are in what feels like a dang nightmare? Why do we need to hear it from the person asking, that it’s okay to give an honest answer?
I have news for you, there is no reward for never needing help. There is no pat on the back for being perfect. Honestly I’d think being perfect sort of puts a target on your back, ain’t nobody want to see that being flaunted.
There isn’t a higher place in heaven for the mom with a clean house, well behaved kids and the perfect marriage. Partially because those three things can’t occur naturally together (I’m convinced of this) and also because God loves us in our brokenness. He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless.
Nursing that spinal headache taught me a few things:
It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to accept it. This doesn’t make me less of a person, mom or wife, it makes me human.
Sometimes you have to take care of yourself. Like in an airplane losing cabin pressure, I’m no use to someone else if I pass out because I didn’t put my oxygen on first.
There are a lot of people ready and willing to help you, if you’d just let them.
When I was talking to my friend I was amazed by her honesty and frustrated that I’d been so absorbed in my own life I hadn’t reached out sooner.
We get so absorbed in trying to do all of the things, plan two steps ahead and coordinate for a smooth sailing morning, nap time and evening that we lose sight of the here and now.
I find myself thinking of the next tasks ahead and forgetting to be in the moment. Forgetting to make a real connection with people and genuinely struggling to stay in a conversation completely without checking out mentally to plan for whatever is next.
Today, I’ll be praying that we can all live in the moment. That we can open our eyes to see what God is doing for us, to us and through us. That we can pull ourselves away from the distractions, lean on each other, ask for help when we need it and accept the blessings that God pours over us.
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