- I am ruining my kids’ lives.
- It’s going to take years of therapy to un-do the damage.
- They deserve someone better than me.
By the time my kids were pre-schoolers, these thoughts ran through my head pretty much non-stop.
I Tried at Church
I’d started out with such optimism, sitting in the front row with my newborn and toddler when Daniel was appointed pastor of a small congregation. I so wanted our little family to worship together.
But reality soon settled in...as I settled into the “Mothers’ Room.” (Although it was was more like “The Mother’s Room,” as I was the only woman in the congregation with small children!)
Week in and week out, I entered my “isolation chamber,” feeling more and more distanced from the adults in church.
Week in and week out, I entered my “isolation chamber,” feeling more and more distanced from the adults in church.
I Tried at Home
I’d vowed not to be perfectionistic like my own mother. I wanted to be a fun, spontaneous, involved mom who focused on her children and really knew them.
But chaos soon settled in, bringing hordes of dust bunnies along. I invited friends over a few times, but each time I noticed the other moms rolling their eyes at my woefully inept housekeeping “skills.”
When the reciprocal invitations came, I felt ashamed as I compared their beautifully-decorated, white-carpeted homes to my mess. I stopped inviting other mothers into to my home and felt even more alone.
When the reciprocal invitations came, I felt ashamed as I compared their beautifully-decorated, white-carpeted homes to my mess. I stopped inviting other mothers into to my home and felt even more alone.
I Tried a Moms’ Group
I’d joined a local moms group that sponsored play dates at the park. Oh, how I longed for sympathetic mom-to-mom conversations!
But disillusionment soon settled in. I came to dread the polarizing conversations that dominated what should have been casual chit-chat:
The more heated the debates became, the more bewildered I felt. Why were we arguing? What good was this doing any of us? Why couldn’t we just support each other? When I finally realized that I felt more alienated at the group than home alone, I quit.
- plastic vs. cloth?!?
- bottle vs. breast?!?
- crib vs. family bed?!?
- Ferber vs. Snugglie?!?
The more heated the debates became, the more bewildered I felt. Why were we arguing? What good was this doing any of us? Why couldn’t we just support each other? When I finally realized that I felt more alienated at the group than home alone, I quit.
Desperate
When Sarah Mae posted on Facebook, months ago, that her publisher was afraid that “Desperate” wasn’t a good title for her book, I responded with immediate vehemence:
OH, how quickly I would have snatched up a book called Desperate when my children were little!
Sarah Mae calls it “the book that came out of my secret whispers, the ‘I just can’t be a mother today’ whispers to God.
And almost two decades later, I remember those days...and those whispers.
I remember feeling
- desperate for someone who understood my struggles because she’d been through the same ones herself.
- desperate for someone who could tell me, “You’re all going to be okay!”
- desperate for someone with a few years under her belt who could talk me through the gap between who I was as a mom and who I wanted to become.
Desperate is more than just a book. Through it, Sarah Mae and Sally Clarkson are launching “A no-more-desperate-moms movement.” For more details, you can read more about it, enter the release week give-aways, and watch the promo video!
I’m giving away a copy of Desperate: Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breathe this week. Enter via the Rafflecopter below!
Your Turn!
- If you’re a mother, what has made you feel most “desperate”?
- Why do women get into ____ vs. ____ conversations?
- How can we be more supportive of each other while maintaining our integrity?
- Anything else on your heart!
Coming in January!
Looking for a simple way to keep scripture close at hand?
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31 laminated cards in an organza draw-string bag...
images and word spacing designed to enhance memory
