The motherhood advice I sought and received as a new mother was rigid and, in many ways, unforgiving. The books I read were strict, structured, and scheduled. Most things were very black and white, leaving very little room for fluidity and humanity. These were well-intentioned writers that had bought into and then sold control, perfectionism, and behavior modification at its best. When my firstborn was a few weeks old, our family walked through tragedy, so anything that offered me some perceived control over my world was what I consumed day in and day out. I held to these parenting models as though they were the only right way, the controlled way. If you have a baby or any child at any age, controlling and modifying behavior will only get you so far. It overlooks the child’s heart and individuality; if anything, they are more damaging than helpful in the long run.
There is a tragic correlation when I sit and take a long look at my former self and the way I was mothering. I was holding myself to these same impossible and inhumane standards of perfection. As if my ability to control others, my world, my children, or situations could ever erase the pain or prevent more pain from ever happening again. At the root of control, is merely fear and what fear needs most to be dismantled is grace and compassion.
This example is how story and mothering overlap and intersect. The way we subconsciously mother comes from the roots of our story. The way we respond and react is entangled with story after story of our own belonging, our own childhood, our own joys and fears.
For many years now, since beginning and continually doing my own “story work” and inviting healing into the fearful places within me, I have tasted goodness and redemption in my views of motherhood, and so have my children. There are days I still hold a lot of shame around how I felt I should parent at the beginning and the ways I acted out of fear and not out of compassion. I am reminded though, that the redeeming essence of humanity is grace and the road there is unwavering compassion for one another, including myself. Compassion is what changes a story, always.
Motherhood is a fluid, ever-evolving aspect of our life. The way we show up is inherently tied to our own stories and our generational stories, things passed down through family lines. Like so many aspects in life, our story is a good place to begin, especially when it comes to how we mother. More often than not, taking a good hard look at your own story will give you clarity on where to begin.
Hang out with people who are confident of the wild goodness of Jesus and who aren’t apt to offer quick or silly and superficial solutions to life’s struggles. These people are more often than not curious-to-the-bone about the human heart, voracious readers of fiction, lovers of theatre, and absolutely intrigued by the heart of Jesus. If you can find this pearl of a person—a counselor, a sage, or just a compassionate friend—then tell him a single story of some event that deeply shaped who you are. Chose a story that bears heartache in a highly formative period of life. Let your friend listen and feel your story and then let them pursue understanding through conversation. Take it in. Give all the new thoughts to Jesus. Invite him into the heartache with you. – Dan Allender
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