I am Monet: Exhaustion and Doubt in Motherhood

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Today we did another up-and-back to Mayo for Cee.  That makes two trips in eight days.  We returned home with more questions than answers and an MRI to get scheduled.  David and I are exhausted in every sense of the word.  It’s hard.  It’s really hard.

Given all this, when I read a post from my friend Sara at Catholic Again, I had to respond.  Here’s a snippet from Sara’s “On Falling Behind…

 

Am I the only one who feels like I’m not doing enough of the right things?

I cook. I clean. I shuttle the wee girl to preschool. I try to get us out of the house in the morning. We have a weekly date with the library. I do the grocery shopping and help make/keep the budget.
But.
I fear the kids aren’t eating enough any vegetables. I fear the wee girl is having too much screen time. I worry I’m not providing a rich learning/playing environment for the wee ones

 

Sara’s concerns echo my own.  I recently mentioned that my piles have piles.  Heaven forbid anything get filed on the counter, because it is lost forever.  St. Anthony is the patron saint of my kitchen.

The laundry gets clean, but it languishes on the couch for days.  If I start folding but get interrupted, the baby destroys any progress.  That means I never fold unless I know I can get through the whole basket in a sitting.  Which.  Is pretty much only at midnight.  St. Jude is the patron saint of my laundry.  It’s a lost cause.

And now everything with Cee.  Nothing like riding for 7 hours in a car with a child crying in pain to make you question your life choices.

The doctors at Mayo aren’t sure about the integrity of her hip joint.  She’s eight.  And all the sudden we’re talking hip surgery.  Maybe.  What could we have done differently?  What did we do wrong to have caused our beautiful little girl to spend half her life battling this awful disease?

 

If you haven’t guessed already, I’ve got the mom guilt, too– I’m never enough. Most the time it seems like I’m not doing ANYTHING well. If I’m giving myself a GPA, I’d be a pretty strong 2.0.  Sure it’s passing, but it’s sure not going to get me a scholarship at Mom University.

 

Sara concluded her post with the question:

How do you handle the doubts and struggles of being a parent?

 

Hey!  That’s what I want to know!  How do I move on from here?  With the near future full of question marks.  With feelings of failure for either having not pushed Cee hard enough or not pushed for more tests soon enough.  With a household that’s behind on everything.

 

I guess my first step is to take a breath.  As an anxious person, it’s easy to forget to breathe in.  And out.
My next step is to find other moms (either online or in real life) out there who are in the same boat.  That goes a long way in helping me find land after being adrift on a sea of guilt and self-doubt.

 

Christina shared some lovely thoughts on her blog about the false god of “balance” for women.  My takeaway from Christina’s post is that we will never be at 100% in everything.  And that’s okay.

 

Reading about how Sara is struggling with the same feelings is comforting.  Reading Christina’s thoughts on balance in motherhood is comforting.  If the great moms in my life are struggling, maybe it’s not a problem with me, as much as it is the stress of motherhood in general.

 

After some venting and listening (or reading, in this case), I have a more accurate perspective on life.  What things can I actually affect by changing my behavior?  Am I doing something unhealthy (too much time on social media, yelling at the kids, indulging selfish whims instead of getting things done)?  Or am I being overly self-critical?  Am I doing my best?

 

You know what?  I am doing my best.  If the results are less than fine– so be it.  I’m still doing my best.  Tomorrow I will do my best; hopefully things will look better then.

 

 

The more I think about it, mothers are just like impressionist painters.

Every day I dab tiny specks of color on a giant canvas.  Today’s globs might not look like much.  But add them to yesterday’s and tomorrow’s?  Now we’re getting somewhere.  Only after a hopefully long, full life will we be able to take a step back and truly appreciate the masterpiece.

 

I need to see myself as Monet.  I must be patient as the painting takes shape.  That perspective is especially critical when I’m working on the shadowy parts that haven’t come together with the whole painting yet.  It just looks dark.

 

 

 

All the doubts are still floating around in my mind, but at least I’m not indulging them anymore.  The choice not let my negative self-talk snowball takes conscious effort.

 

Between gaining perspective and getting more sleep (family movie, anyone?), I know I’ll feel better soon.  I am Monet.  If today’s dabs don’t look quite right, I’ll add to them or paint over them tomorrow.

 

 


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10 Comments


  1. // Reply

    This is such a hard time. I wonder if connecting with other mothers (of faith, especially) who have children with chronic illnesses would help. I suffer killing doubts all the time, but I feel I can hardly offer advice since I don’t have the added complexity of a child with special needs.


    1. // Reply

      That would be nice. There’s a little online community of parents who are facing the same diagnosis in a child, but many of them do not have faith. I understand why– in the face of the suffering of a child, maintaining faith is particularly challenging.

      Then again, all families have some shadowy periods they have to get through: emotional issues, financial issues, family dynamics, alcoholism– no one is free from some sort of struggle. I imagine that most moms can relate to feelings of exhaustion and doubt.


  2. // Reply

    I am sending one big virtual hug – I don’t know if you are a hugger, and I usually am not, but you are getting one from afar.

    You. Are. AMAZING.

    Every single mother is struggling in at least one area, whether they admit it to themselves (or others) or not. We all struggle, and you are correct, sometimes a perspective shift helps face the struggle. But, there will still be times of doubt.

    When my anxiety starts to rear, I take a hard look at it to try to determine why. I also do the same with my anger. Knowing my triggers for those emotions (i.e. being late, having lists of things to do – I’m not a list person -, thinking I’ve got everything set in motion – controlling everything to the very last moment – and then watching it fall to pieces, and more) has helped me figure out what situations create those feelings. Then, I have to either choose to avoid those instances (not going to happen all the time), shift my perspective, or fall back on my mantra, “Jesus, I trust in You.”

    I will be praying for you – to change up a little bit of St. Augustine’s quote of “Give me chastity, but not yet,” I will be praying, “Give Alicia the strength to see that’s You have given her love and commitment to motherhood for a purpose. If You will not do so yet, I pray that You will allow her some much-needed, restful sleep, a drink of her choice, and a new perspective when she feels overwhelmed with the demands of motherhood.”

    Just remember – God gave Cee to you for a reason, and He is *trusting* you with your daughter, and I’m pretty sure some said somewhere, “[They] just wish He didn’t trust them so much at times.”

    Hug yourself, hug your husband, and know you are doing alright!

    And, I *loved* the imagery of the Monet painting…


    1. // Reply

      Thanks, Anni. Your prayers are much appreciated.


  3. // Reply

    Oh, Alicia. I’ll say some prayers for you today. I really got nothing as far as the medical stuff, but Anni is right…everybody is struggling with something (or a bunch of things). That’s the tricky thing about this internet age – we don’t know that people are struggling unless they tell us! Way too easy to paint a perfect picture.

    I think sometimes we just have to trust that God is taking our best, no matter how little it feels, and is turning it into something great. (I’m fairly certain you’re touching some lives with this blog of yours but chances are we won’t know the extent of it until Heaven.) Hang in there, momma.


    1. // Reply

      Thanks, Jen. You’ve gone through so much with losing Levi… It helps to know that we’re not alone.


  4. // Reply

    I had this EXACT SAME CONVERSATION with my husband last night. We have a child with special neds as well, and I feel like I am constantly failing everyone at everything. That inner monologue can be so brutal. He answered me with the title of my very own blog: “faithful, not successful.” Oh. Right.

    I am reaching out with a virtual hug and encouragement — you are doing your absolute best, Mama. You are NOT called to get it right all the time, or solve all the mysteries, or find all the right doctors, but just to keep doing your very best and falling on his mercy when you can’t even do that.

    This is my first visit to your blog, but I’m looking forward to getting to know you more in this place.


    1. // Reply

      “Faithful, not successful” is a beautiful motto (and blog name!). As a perfectionist people-please, it’s such a challenge to switch the end goal from “success” to just being faithful. Thanks for stopping by.


  5. // Reply

    Thank you for these beautiful words: “I am Monet. If today’s dabs don’t look quite right, I’ll add to them or paint over them tomorrow.” The grace of that truth – that every day is a gift of do-over – let me breathe a little freer after reading it. Thank you.

    I do hope and pray the doctors will find something that works for Cee – I have been in that place of helplessness and grief when my husband’s auto-immune diseases all took a turn for the worse – and it… well, it sucks. I’ll be lifting you all up from over here – praying that you would be refreshed and sustained, the way you have done that for me today.


    1. // Reply

      Thanks, Sara. I appreciate your prayers. And thank you also for the inspiration to think more deeply about these feelings of overwhelm and self-doubt. <3

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