Monday, February 23, 2015

What I Meant to Say Was...

I don't want to be a super-mom.

I never saw in the job description that I would have two special needs kids that completely blow out the window any parenting skills that I may have ever thought that I had.

I never signed on to train to practically be a nurse just so I could care for my baby.

I never read in the fine print that mental issues will take over your life and that of your whole family.  It was never explained to me that I would lose friends and push away family merely by giving birth to a child who has a mood disregulation.

I never thought to study pharmacology just so I could pronounce the names of the contents of my refrigerator and cabinet.

It didn't occur to me to set up a nursery with a special place for oxygen tanks and a plethora of syringes and tubes.

I didn't choose to have The Bipolar Child as my nightly read because it has a nice cover.

It never crossed my mind that I would learn to drive in DC by force because I would need to make the trek in and out of the city multiple times a month, sometimes more than once a week, with my baby in tow because she has more specialists than a cat has fleas.

But here we are.  And this is what I do.  And this is who I am.

And I am no more of a super-mom than you are.

You, whose husband is in the military.

You, whose son is far far away.

You, who is starting working again for the first time and leaving your tiny baby at home.

You, who tries to work at home while the kids tangle in the background.

You, who struggles with too much on her plate, but not wanting to say no to anyone.

You, whose mother is sick.

You, who is in school and handles your kids on your own.

All of you out there. All of you mothers and women and caretakers and givers,

I am no more of a super-mom than you are.

And I don't want that title, anyway.  It's too much to live up to, too much to be.

I just want to be me:  a wife, a mother,

And a friend.

Your friend.

I want to sit across the table from you, leaning on my elbows while sipping a cup of coffee, and listen to you.  I want listen, and I want to affirm what you are doing, because you are doing a great work.

And then I want you to listen to me, too.  And all I want is for you to affirm what I am doing, too, and tell me that I, too, am doing a great work.  I am not asking for answers, a solution, or really even understanding, just empathy, and a bit of affirmation, that's all.

And so, ladies of the Monday morning Women's Bible study, if you are reading this, this is what I meant to say:

By God's grace, I have the power to get up in the morning, and by God's grace, I have the energy to deal with the day presented before me.  I am not a super-mom, but I serve a Super-God, and I am glad to be here.


  1. And I am glad to be one of your friends! And I am proud to say you are My friend!

  2. Great post Mama Bear! It gave me insight to who you are. I hope we can become online blog friends (is that what you call it? Blogging is new to me. LOL)