Father's Day

So today is Father's Day; a day to celebrate fathers. For some, this day brings joy and fun and thankfulness. But for others, it's either not relevant or it's painful in some way. Maybe dad wasn't great, or he's unknown. Maybe he left. Maybe he was never around. Maybe he never cared. Or maybe it's harder than anyone can ever imagine! Maybe dad was wonderful, but he died too soon, and he's missed every day, not just today. Maybe for some mums, they're so busy bringing up their kids alone, that Father's Day is a bit of a joke to them. And then there are those who would love to be a father or once were, and those who father alone.

For me, I am grateful for a dad who loves me now and cared for me, as a child. When the midwife saw my dad 'still' cuddling me, she told him he was going to spoil me, and his reply was that he fully intended to. I was his 'little peanut'. To my mum's dismay, he used to push me far too high on the swings. He taught me to drive and came and rescued me when I ran out of petrol, again and again. He used to walk me to the Off License on a Friday night for a packet of m&ms. He made me the perfect bacon sarnies. He helped me plan for a trip to Uganda, without telling mum. (That's another story!) He took me to my first football match, well it was QPR, but close enough and he bought me my first VW Beetle. He walked me down the aisle. And he continues to father me, whilst being a crazy grandad to my children. My slightly sarcastic tone of humour, and the ability to find the funny side of things in most situations is from him too and also my secret love for The Travelling Wilburys, but don't tell the husband.

Now I actually forgot to get my dad a Father's Day card. How bad is that? Thankfully, he is on holiday so by the time I buy a reduced one tomorrow and send it off, he will never know it was late! He definitely deserves to get a card, a small gesture of thanks. I guess I'm so secure in His love for me, that I probably take him, and my mum for granted. And what about my Heavenly Father, does he deserve a reduced card thanking Him for all He has done for me? Or does He deserve so much more? There is no amount of praise and worship that I could bestow on Him, that would be considered enough. What He has done for me and given me, is amazing; His love, His grace, His forgiveness, His mercy, my name in His book of life, an eternal heritage, His adoption of me, His joy, His strength. The list goes on and on. And although I'm thankful to my dad for all he has done for me, it actually pails into insignificance when I look at what Abba Father has done for me.

Wonderfully, this amazing fathering isn't just for me. It's for those who never had a dad, or those who had a lousy dad or those whose dad walked out on them or their kids. Even the amazing dads, the ones who love and care, their love still falls a million miles short of the steadfast love of God, and that is worth my thanks and praise.

 

For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
 as far as the east is from the west,
so far does he remove our transgressions from us.
As a father shows compassion to his children,
so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.

Psalm 103v11-13

Be Prepared

So my half term antics were a lot calmer this time round, because for the most part of it I only had three out of the five with me. I'm not saying that having three kids is calm, neither is having two or even one for that matter. But any less than the maximum number, usually makes a great difference in this house. At the beginning of the week, the husband and his brother, took my biggest two off to climb Snowdon, in treacherous, adventurous, 'mum's not here, so let's keep climbing' type weather.

They had waterproofs with them, warm clothing, spare trousers and hoodies, maps of the mountain, climbing boots, head torches, thermal socks, Ben 10 aliens and snacks. So they were pretty well prepared, even though the husband forgot his spare trousers so ended up at the pub in the evenings, in his pyjamas. (I only packed for the boys, so no comment) It sounds like it wasn't the easiest climb, with poor visibility, sideways hail storms and crying boys. The two men ended up carrying a terrified child each on their shoulders, headlong into the icy wind, for quite a long way back down the mountain to safety.

I was pretty well prepared too, for the glorious, sunny day in the garden, which I was having back home. I had made a shady tent for baby to play in. I had suncreamed the littlest ones. I had given out ice creams. I had the juice ready for when they asked. I had set up Happyland, and I had positioned the sun lounger exactly where I wanted it, turning it to face the sun every so often. I had thought about sending a photo of all this to the husband, but had decided against it.

I was prepared in the evening too; tv remote, glass of white, and a bar of hazlenut chocolate, just before fluffing the pillows on both sides of the bed, allowing me to choose and roll at choice. (I'm sure the hostel bunk beds were just as spacious for the male-bonding Snowdonia survivors too).

And now it's the night before school starts. The preparation has commenced; the uniforms are ready in neat piles. Their shoes are out in pairs, in the porch. (Five pairs, which is confusing me somewhat) Their lunch bags have been washed from the experiments that were growing in them. The boys themselves have been washed from anything growing on them too. The sandwiches are made. The cereal is out.
(I sound amazing don't I? Don't be deceived. For a more balanced view of my organisational skills, take a look at my last blog post. Every so often, I do like to give the husband false hope that I am the dream wife he had hoped for all those years ago) And so I'm ready for what tomorrow brings. Or am I? I know that whatever preparation has happened, however well I've nailed it practically this evening, there is still something I need to do.

I know that I need to be ready for tomorrow, with the realisation that I can't actually do tomorrow!

I can't do it on my own. I can't do it in my own strength. I can't be a good mum in my own strength. I can't be a good wife in my own strength. I can't do anything in my own strength. The preparation which needs to take place, starts with me humbly admitting that I need God's help for tomorrow. I need His help when I feed the baby at 5:30am. I need His help when they forget to brush their teeth tomorrow. I need to confidently approach the throne of grace, before tomorrow even comes and as soon as tomorrow comes. I need God's help in order to glorify Him tomorrow, otherwise even with all the prep in the world, I know how my day will turn out. The days I think I can do it alone, just end up exactly like my last blog post. So, I aim to end today in His wonderful presence and I aim to start tomorrow, right back in it. I simply can't do tomorrow without Him. Thankfully, He has already gone ahead of me tomorrow, so He knows what I really need to be prepared for.

 

"Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me". Psalm 54v4

"Do not be far from me my God; come quickly, God, to help me". Psalm 71v12

The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow

Walk with me, no hurry with me, through a morning last week....
We got up late. The baby was wet through but needed milk, so a quick decision had to be made; change the baby, but start the morning with her 'hunger scream', or feed the baby but start the morning with wet pyjamas, as her wet becomes my wet. I decided the hunger scream was the better choice.
 
Screaming baby changed. And on with the feeding, but shouts from another room of "I hate you" meant baby was put down on my bed, where she successfully grabbed the bottle and fed herself; a useful skill if you happen to be the fifth one in this house. Young Jedi has learned well. The "I hate you" is a new phrase. It only just started this week and needs training like every other new phase they go through. But this morning, really? Younger boys bugging older boys, older boys jumping out at younger boys and a mummy snapping at multiple boys. Do I really have to talk into why we don't hate each other? I haven't got the time this morning. I wonder if someone slept over last night or if indeed these are actually all my kids?  I'll assume for now, that they're all mine and get them packed off to school, so I can get on with the stuff I need to do today. There's a cry up the stairs of "Muuuuuuuuum there's no milk", but it's okay that there is no milk today, because we are running half an hour late, which means that the little shop is now open. Hurrah, every cloud...

£1.50 found and a child sent out to buy milk, which I do stop to appreciate, knowing that some mums have years 'til they're at this stage. Brief thankful and positive thought of the morning over with, and on with the morning.
 
Multiple cereal boxes, bowls, spoons and light sabers, are precariously balancing on the table around the pile of wet washing which I left on the table last night, to remind myself to hang it up last night. The child returns with milk but no one needs milk because they all ate dry Frosties out of the box, while I was upstairs. Of course they did, how innovative of them. Baby sat in a Bumbo chair next to the pile of washing on the kitchen table, still in her nappy. I feed her mashed up banana while she spits out mashed up banana. I try to remember back to when I had one baby and I took my time with each of these delicate little developmental stages and wrote them in a 'Keepsake' book. Ha ha ha...
 
Baby taken upstairs to clean off what I'm hoping is just banana. There's an argument about marbles going on. I make a snappy suggestion about shoes and teeth; the things they do every single day but seem to forget on a daily basis. So three end up in the bathroom together, which everyone knows is just a recipe for disaster. More than two children in a room together, doing something they've been asked to do, never actually works. Even two children is probably one too many, if you actually want them to achieve that thing. I remember the dentist saying something about them not all being old enough to brush their teeth without supervision, but the dentist didn't mean on days like today, he meant nine years ago, when I had one child. One, I can supervise. How is there a child still in pyjamas? Oh pants, I thought they were all dressed.
 
Baby carried downstairs for some physical play (rolling over and getting stuck). The pyjama-d boy is now dressed but screaming. His brother hit him with a light saber. I hurry to the offending child and snap at him. I yell something about being a good example as the older one. I can hear the hypocrisy as I yell, but I'll set him a good example tomorrow, when I'm calmer, when I'm not running late, when I've got more time. The older boy listens to my rant, and then simply says "I was actually just holding the light saber when he tried to hit me and he hit the light saber instead". I was yelling at the wrong child. So I went and made things right, by yelling at the other child. I think the baby is crying. She must've rolled over and got stuck. I'll get to her in a minute.
 
It turned 8:33am. The boys needed to leave for school. A hurried coat grab as they were shoved out the door, "But mum we need £1.50 at school today, to help the dogs". A random request, but I seem to remember it was spent on this morning's milk which we didn't need. Heads kissed quickly and off they went into the big wide world. Why are there still two children crying? Oh yeah one got yelled at and one got stuck. I went for a distraction technique rather than a sorry, to the 'yelled at' one. Baby has stopped crying. A window of opportunity to get dressed.
 
I moved sleeping baby from the lounge floor to the car seat and started out the door for nursery. It's my rare day when four out of five are at an educational setting and I can have a bit of space, a bit of me time, a bit of house cleaning with no one needing me. I have a faint recollection that the other three left for school without lunch, so I cut mouldy edges off of some bread, stuck something edible inside and grabbed their lunch boxes which still had yesterday's leftovers in. I stopped to add a note to their lunches saying "mummy is sorry for being a grumpy poo-head today". I dashed to the car in the rain. Drenched and slightly tearful, I looked into the mirror and realised at some point today I must've made the decision not to do my hair or make up.
 
My now wet boy piped up from the back, "We don't like the rain do we mummy?" And I knew what he was about to say and I knew it was today's 'lesson from a three year old'. "We don't like the rain do we mummy, but it's the rain which makes the plants grow." I sat in the car with him asking why we weren't going anywhere and I reflected on my morning. If the plants grow in the 'not so nice weather', how have I grown in my 'not so nice morning' and how have my kids grown from their 'not so nice mum'?

"Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness". Lamentations 3v22-23

Somewhere along the way this morning, I thought my mission was to get them up, and get them out. I'd forgotten that my mission is actually to show them Jesus' love; to show them His kindness and His compassion and to train them to glorify God, in how they live their lives. I was too busy this morning to train my kids, too snappy to set them an example. Actually I had set them an example, just not one I want them to follow. I didn't start my morning in God's presence, I didn't even ask Him for help as it went from bad to worse. I just ploughed on, in my own strength and I definitely didn't glorify God with my actions. Thankfully He is patient enough to train me, and to grow me through the rainy, all consuming days. Because the sun will come out tomorrow. His mercy is new for me every morning, even this morning.

Pass the Bucket

So the small pink bundle is 6 months old now, and I think I've survived. Time to get back on with the every day blogging. Thanks to everyone who let me interview them for the Mothering series. (There are a couple more stories to post out). I've been so encouraged to hear how different mums draw strength from the same God. 

So where do I start back in? Well, probably best to start with a good old vomit story! We had a week of sickness; each child and parent taking a different day to develop their own version of being poorly. With a big family, a sickness bug amounts to a lot of Tupperware, a lot of Lucozade, a lot of DVD watching, a lot of duvet washing, a lot of teddy bear washing and a lot of windows regularly opened. Each child had a different approach to the bug. One cried a lot but made it to the loo in time. I'm fine with that. One was sick once and then was his normal energetic self. Mmm...not so fine. One cried a specific cry which gave me enough time to run upstairs with a Tupperware box. Again, fine with that. The baby one was only a little bit sick, but she rubbed her beautiful red hair into it. Mmm... And then there's the one who silently threw up on himself, threw up on his teddies, threw up on his bed, threw up on the floor, and then tearfully walked downstairs for help. I asked the husband to help me with this one and he walked in the room and gagged several times, which if nothing else, caused me to laugh at him.

With the backload of washing, I only got round to washing Tigger and cleaning out the lumps in the bath the next day. As I was in the bathroom, slightly heaving, opening the window and sighing, my eldest called out from his bed, "Mum, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God". (1 Corinthians 10v31)

I laughed out loud or LOL as they say. What a little legend. And of course how right he was. The Bible clearly tells us that whatever we are doing, we should do it for the glory of God. Whether it's washing Tigger, washing the bath after Tigger's visit, cleaning the Tupperware out, washing multiple duvets, Anti-Bacterialising the whole house or cleaning the carpet while the husband gags, we do it for God. It's not easy but at that moment it was a perfect reminder of why I do what I do, every day, just as a mum.

Mothering the Prodigal Son

It's Easter Sunday; the perfect day to read a testimony of God's Amazing Grace, while nibbling at a choccy egg or two. May I introduce to you a wonderful lady as she shares her story about 'Mothering the Prodigal Son'. (With his permission). It is the 14th post in the Mothering series, and is a hard but brilliant story of Redemption. Happy Easter.

How many kids do you have? What are their ages?

Two children, Adam aged 26 and Francesca aged 21

Were your kids raised in a Christian household? 

I became a Christian when Adam was aged about two but I had a period of drifting and backsliding, so it was eventually a Christian household! As a family we attended Stoneleigh Bible Week for a number of years which drew us into the Church of Christ the King community, and subsequently Newday (a Christian Youth event) which all of us have been involved with over the years. Both children gave their lives to God at an early age.

When did you notice Adam drifting from that committment to God? 

During Adam's late teens he became cynical and disconnected. This was at a time when his closest friends left for university or joined the forces leaving him without the peer group that he had grown up with. He then found new friendships through the work place which at the time were different and exciting. I think he took his Christian values into the friendships expecting them to be reciprocated but they were not, not in the way that he expected. He had developed a loyalty to them. He changed in order to survive this new life.

What did this new life look like for Adam? 

Initially it was pubs, clubs, girls and we later found out drugs. This resulted in Adam moving out of our home, of his own accord and moving into the home of friends in the church. His actions gave the impression that he was rejecting both God and us which was confusing as he wanted the security of living in another church family home with the same values and rules. As a mother, there was part relief that he had moved out as I did not have to continually witness his actions on a day to day basis. I remember one day, looking at Adam and saying “I have never had a son or been a mum before, this is all new to me." My heart ached so much at the time, it was as if something had ripped my insides out.

How did you and Nigel react to Adam's drifting away? 

I spent many hours crying; once I started it was very hard to get me to stop. I was also angry with Adam and in a way with God too. How could He let this happen to my once beautiful blond, full of life, baby boy? Nigel and I acted very differently, I'd cry and be very restless and he would be very pragmatic holding it together for me and Frankie, but he also had moments of anger and frustration.
At times all I wanted Nigel to do was to hold Adam up against the wall and give him a good hiding to knock some sense into him. (I'd like to stress that I am not actually a violent person!) I made an effort to see Adam although it usually hurt me. I'd try and chat with him over the phone or meet with him in town to keep the communication between us going. Nigel kept in contact by text, many of which were not responded to. We made a point of being consistent in our messages of our love to him.

What were your worries and fears in it all?

There were many, especially in the middle of the night; Would he end up in prison? Would he be found somewhere in a pool of blood? How much further was this journey going to take him away from God and from us? 

How did you feel as Adam's mum?

As a mum I felt rubbish, a failure, distraught. I felt that I had lost my son but had no grave to visit.

Did you blame yourself? Did you feel judged about it?

Being a mum, you always blame yourself. Should I have done this? Should I have done that? I was surrounded by very supportive and understanding friends who I knew were in it with me for the long term. The devil whispered lies and it is easy to see other families as 'perfect' so you can feel judged even though nothing is said and they only have love and compassion for you. 

How did you pray for Adam?

Together, Nigel and I prayed for Adam every day that he would be reminded of the prophetic words and truths spoken over him over the years. I prayed this verse in the middle of the night many a time.  "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." 
Philippians 4 v 6. 

I was encouraged a few years later when Keith Hazell, a man with a prophetic gift, spoke to Nigel and I about having a prodigal son who would return to God and that there would be a time of great restoration. We held onto this for many years.

Did you talk to Adam about it all?

God and church were not subjects that Adam would tolerate in a discussion, but other people had told him about this prophetic word which just seemed to antagonise him.

Were you able to show him love still?

Absolutely, even when I did not like what he was doing I never stopped loving him. I showed this by keeping in touch and trying not to be judgemental. 
Truly unconditional love.

What was the hardest part of it all?

There was one night when Adam ended up in Tunbridge Wells hospital with chest pains. Adam did not tell us about it, but the friends that he had been living with, phoned us. We went straight to the hospital arriving at about 11:00pm. We were told that they had found a shadow on his lungs. When we visited his bed side he did not want to speak to us. It was heartbreaking. Definitely an evening I will never forget. He was like a total stranger. 

What did you learn through this time?

I realised that I could not battle on in my own strength. I was exhausted emotionally and physically. The best thing I ever did was to surrender all responsibility for Adam to God and to let God have His way with him, trusting God's timing. Effectively I acknowledged that Adam was not mine but God's and that I may not see his restoration in my lifetime. This was an immense weight off my shoulders.

Nigel and I grew stronger as a couple and we found great strength together being able to share our own experiences as we walked alongside other couples going through similar situations. 

When did things start to change? 

Adam and a friend from church started travelling to work together which resulted in them spending a number of hours each day talking. This friend was able to have conversations with Adam, which as his mum, I just couldn't. This resulted in him breaking off an engagement and turning up at the church men's weekend. Adam was impacted by the guest speaker and felt that every talk was directed at him. God really did do a job on Adam! Guys that he thought did not care about him openly welcomed him, and shared how, for many years, they had prayed for him. This totally blew him away. One of the great things that I noticed was that after this weekend the eyes that had been dead for many years were now full of life. 

Have you spoken about it all with him? Has there been reconcilliation?

We have never needed to talk in depth about it, a hug from Adam speaks for itself. His gentle heart is so apparent. Adam's values and foundations are now firmly planted in God, we were especially aware of this as we watched him step up, pursue, lead in a relationship and become a married man last year. 

During his wedding speech he totally honoured both myself and Nigel and thanked us for putting up with him even during the rubbish times.
I came away from the wedding feeling totally elated and secure knowing that my son had now been launched into a new phase of his life with God at the centre.

Would you have done anything differently?

Nothing, it was part of my journey in God, as well as Adam's.

Mothering Alone

This is an interview with a single mum, and is the thirteenth post in the Mothering series.

How did you come to be 'Mothering Alone'?

I was 18 when I found out I was pregnant. I had just finished my A-Level exams and had applied to a couple of universities to study Art and Psychology, so becoming a mum was the last thing on my mind. I had broken up with my boyfriend a few days before finding out I was expecting so the news came as a shock to him too. He made it very clear from the start that he wasn’t ready to be a father, that he wasn’t prepared to accept any responsibility for this child and strongly suggested a termination. I could see the sense in what he was saying; we were both young, I was planning to go to university, we had our whole lives ahead of us, why throw it all away now? My heart was telling me something else. I chose to keep my baby; it wasn’t his fault I had gotten into this situation and it was time I faced up to the consequences of my actions. 

What were your fears&worries when you found out you were pregnant?

I was still living at home, so I had my mum and brother to consider in all this. They were both supportive but I had also caused them a lot of worry. I knew that I could carry on living with my mum for as long as I needed to but the time to fly the nest would soon come. I think the thing that worried me the most was ‘the unknown’. Nobody knew what the future would hold or what kind of a mother I would be. I got the impression everybody expected me to fail which was something I found hard to ignore. I didn’t know where I was going to live or how I would support myself and a child financially. I had only worked summer jobs so I wasn’t entitled to any maternity pay and the thought of doing all this on my own was really scary. It was hard work trying to find out what benefits I would be entitled to and when I would be eligible. I had to sign on with the job centre (knowing that no-one would give a 3 month pregnant teenager a job) because state maternity pay didn’t start until 11 weeks before my due date. And on top of all this, I didn’t know anything about babies and had never held a baby let alone changed a nappy!

Have you had support and/or judgement as you've mothered alone? 

People that don’t know me or the circumstances of my situation are the most judgemental. I look younger than my years and people are shocked when it comes out in conversation that I have a child, even more so now that Ben is in his teens and taller than me. It is hard listening to what the media says about teen parents and people on benefits, people can be a bit thoughtless sometimes when it comes to sharing their own opinion. To the government I am a statistic and to the average Joe I am a lazy sponger on welfare, using up their hard earned tax payments.  After the initial shock my family has been my biggest support. They have always made themselves available for babysitting, days out, honest advice (sometimes too honest) and they love Ben unconditionally.

What's been the hardest thing about mothering alone? 

Being alone. I have always believed that a child should have a mother and a father. This is how God intended family to be and to remove one of these elements is to upset the balance. I have had to make decisions on my own and I haven’t always made the right decision. When things go wrong there is no-one there with you to help put things right. We are made for companionship and community and being alone creates a hole which is hard to fill. I would long for a husband, for a protector, for a father for my son. Loneliness is a hard thing to live with, and if these deep rooted longings are not kept in check, it can lead to depression, bitterness and self loathing. This is a dark place to be and best avoided wherever possible. It is not easy at the end of the day when the house is quiet and you have the whole evening of your own company ahead of you.  Another difficulty I’ve had to face is pride. We all need to ask for help from time to time but pride can often prevent us from doing this. I think this is something many people can relate to, not just single parents.

How has your walk with God been over the years of being a mum?  

Ben was 4 months old when I made the decision to follow Christ. In some ways I feel that Ben was my saving grace. I had hit rock bottom. I was an empty shell ready to be filled with God's love and compassion. It took along time to understand and accept Gods unconditional love. I had been let down too many times before and part of me expected God to walk away at any moment; I was still in self preservation mode and continued to look for love and acceptance in other places, hard wired to think that everybody leaves sooner or later. This is a tough habit to break and at times it got in the way of my relationship with God. It has taken a decade, but I finally feel free and at peace with the world around me. God has been true to his word; He will never leave me or forsake me. I am a fickle human being and have not always been a willing disciple but God is my rock and He is unmoving. I remember someone once telling me that God was a rock and I should fix my anchor firmly on it so that when the seas are rough or when I begin to drift away I will never go far from the one that will always guide me and teach me and give me comfort and security. 

The verse I have written on my kitchen cupboard is Zephaniah 3:17 “ The Lord your God is with you; he is mighty to save. He will delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing” I love this verse. It gives me hope and strength to carry on because I know that in everything I do God is with me; my Father in heaven delights in me and he chose to save me even though I will never be good enough.  

What have you learnt from mothering alone?

Parenting has taught me a lot about the father heart of God. His love is unconditional, He guides us and protects us, He corrects out of love in a firm but caring way. I think this is true of any parent not just those that find themselves in this role alone.  What I have come to realise is that I am never alone. It is easy to pull out the ‘pity party’ card and mope around feeling sorry for myself, but in reality this pushes people further away. I have an amazing son who is funny and charming. We enjoy each others company and know when we need to give each other some space. We delight in each others achievements and respect our differences.  

What hopes&fears do you have for the future?

I was dreading having a teenager! I always knew that Ben would one day grow up and start making decisions for himself. He is now choosing his study options for GCSE next year and talking about college and beyond. My hope for him is that he will work hard and make good decisions so that he can be the best he can be in the future. I am hopeful for my future. I started a part time support worker job 12 months ago which has slowly increased in hours. Going to work has been hard after such a long time being my own boss but I am now in a position to save money for the future and set new goals for us as a family. Going on a family holiday abroad has always been just out of our reach. I can now look at the holiday photos people put on Facebook knowing that this time next year we could be booking a trip to New York (top of my list) and planning whether to go to MOMA or the Natural History Museum first.

Can you not be both mum&dad to Ben? 

I have always been acutely aware that I can not be the male role model my son needs. I can do the whole rough and tumble thing, I’ve learnt how to play football and I am a mean opponent on Golden Eye for the Wii, but I am not and never will be a guy and nor should I have to be. My dad and brother have always been a constant influence in Ben’s life. They have made themselves available to him and he trusts and respects them. I am quietly confident that if Ben was in a situation he felt he couldn’t share with me that he would feel able to seek them out and talk through the problem.  We have been really blessed to know some great Christian guys over the years that have come along side us and taken Ben under their wing. A lot of behaviour (good and bad) is taught, and without the ‘tom foolery’ and steady guidance these guys have bought into our lives Ben would have missed out on some valuable learning experiences. I won’t name them (for they are many) but to all of these guys, past and future, I am truly grateful.

What's been the best thing about Mothering?

Ben. He has been and still is a real joy. He has had his fair share of tantrums and traumas but he really is the delight of my heart. I love to look at photos of when he was small and think about the fun we have had. I now have the privilege to see the man he will one day become. He is doing well at school and seems to be choosing his friends wisely. It is reassuring to know that by doing my best I have done enough and he always has God watching over him when I can not.  

Mothering in Fear

This is my wonderful friend's account of her bumpy start to motherhood, and is the twelfth post in the Mothering series.

Being a Mum is the most wonderfully amazing thing I’ve ever experienced but I’d be lying if I said this feeling hadn’t been coupled with anxiety and terror from the moment of conception. I knew I was pregnant before I did the test; I’m not sure how but I just did. We were incredibly blessed to fall pregnant immediately after we’d decided to start trying and I was aware of other peoples’ struggles. Whilst I was delighted and excited I began to have intense feelings of fear about losing the baby and to some extent this robbed me of the joy I knew I should feel. I also felt guilty about having the best news but expecting the worst.  

I had begun to resent God (especially in the first two weeks after Phoebe’s birth). It sounds totally crazy because on one hand I was praising His name for giving me a gorgeous, healthy daughter and on the other my obsessive fear of her dying resurfaced and I spent a vast amount of time sobbing and fearful. I believed He would take her back to teach me a lesson for all my past sins, which totally side steps His wonderful grace and I resented the mean God I had created in my mind. It meant I was scared to pick her up or put her down. Every time she cried I felt sick with fear and I felt consumed with the fear of bringing her into a world that is so horribly broken. BUT God kept putting the right people in my path and blessing me in so many incredible ways through the support of friends and family. This resentment didn’t last long as friends prayed with me and the truth set me free.

Nothing prepared me for these feelings and the dreaded sleep deprivation but equally nothing prepared me for the amount of love you can feel for a person as soon as they enter your life. I spent hours mesmerised by Phoebe, mentally studying every part of her and falling more in love every day. I had thought I was prepared (the nursery looked great and I had clothes, nappies, etc) but I wasn’t prepared for not being the most important person in my life. It sounds awful but it’s true. It’s a crazy learning curve but a fantastic one. It is actually incredibly releasing to have someone else to occupy your thoughts, especially if you’re prone to fear of man and over analysing yourself. I love that Phoebe comes first and it makes me feel closer to God; I understand more about how He sees me as a daughter because if I love Phoebe an insane amount, I have faith that He loves me even more.

Three weeks in (when the overwhelming feeling of being out of my depth had begun to subside) I got mastitis for a second time. To cut a long story short I’ll list it: Mastitis, allergic reaction to penicillin, ambulance, adrenalin, oxygen, morphine, drip, abscesses and MRSA infection. I was in hospital for 5 days. My parents were amazing and looked after Phoebe and my husband Doug visited as much as possible. The hospital was wonderful and gave me my own room so Phoebe could visit. Friends prayed for me and sent a constant stream of messages and cards. I look back and see a time of incredible Godly provision. "On my bed i remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night. Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. I cling to you; your right hand upholds me". Psalm 63v6-8 

At the time I truly had moments where I thought I was dying. The pain was excruciating and the infection made my limbs feel like lead so I struggled to even hold Phoebe. I stopped breast-feeding and felt incredibly relieved and utterly guilty. I didn’t feel guilty for Phoebe’s sake but instead like I’d let motherhood down. I still struggle to bottle feed in public and feel the compulsive need to over explain the decision to bottle-feed. The enemy got a good foothold and I felt like I would be particularly judged by Christian friends, which was a total lie. In fact most people were incredibly supportive and sympathetic.The hardest thing about being in hospital was being away from Phoebe, who could only visit. I cried a lot, read trashy mags, spent way too much time on facebook until I finally decided to pray properly (not just the constant request for God to stop the pain) and listen to preaches. God broke into my sadness and loneliness in that time but also broke a big part of my fear surrounding Phoebe. He assured me that Phoebe was in His hands and I felt an assurance of the fact I’d been chosen to be her Mum, entrusted with her care and given the Holy Spirit to help me do this. 

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God". Philippians 4v6

This time helped me appreciate my own parents in a whole new way and it also helped me realise that however many books you read, to be a good parent you need to pray hard, love unconditionally and trust God. Nothing can prepare anyone to be a parent but it is so essential to be open and talk to existing parents. This has helped me realise how normal all my feelings have been. The enemy loves us to feel isolated but being a parent gives you access to an incredible club where people will go out of their way to support you and are desperate for you to succeed. No-one is waiting for you to slip up; instead everyone knows the highs and lows and is ready to step in and help whether it’s at church, mother and baby groups, family or friends. But even in the moments when it seems so hard and it’s you and a screaming baby, God is very present with the desire for us to be like Him. I have to rely on His provision of energy and patience and also to take His lead and know when to rest. I am so grateful for the incredible gift of a daughter and that will always outweigh the momentary lows, which are quickly forgotten. Being a Mum is awesome!