Real talk on Mother’s Day from a mom of 25 children

In this Saturday, Sept. 26, 2020 file photo, Miriam Nyambura coaches her son Peter Kihika, 16, who wants to become a teacher but now works during the day scavenging materials to be sold for recycling at Kenya’s largest landfill Dandora, after his mother lost her job and his school was closed due to the coronavirus pandemic, in Nairobi, Kenya. | Brian Inganga, Associated Press

This weekend is Mother’s Day, the day that many women dread. The original intent behind the day was a good one — to take one day to honor the many sacrifices mothers make every day. Now it’s too often hearing about — or seeing pictures of — an idealized version of motherhood. That results in guilt for not being a perfect mom or not being the perfect child, or both.

It can be such a painful day for birth mothers not parenting their child, for women struggling with infertility, for women who have had toxic relationships with their own mothers and everyone else who feels like it’s a day to make you feel like you’re just not quite measuring up. Motherhood is hard, y’all. It’s hard.

I’ve been a mom for 34 years and I’ve had a love-hate relationship with Mother’s Day for that whole time. I love dandelion bouquets in chubby hands and scrambled eggs cooked with love (even though I really don’t like scrambled eggs.) But I really haven’t loved stories of perfect mothers with perfect children because that has not been my reality. Is it yours?

While I love all the ages and stages of parenting, I don’t in fact, love all the parts of all the ages and stages. Catching throw-up in my hands? Not my favorite. Scrubbing dried boogers off the wall because apparently tissues were too far away? Also not my favorite. Teenagers bring their own special kind of lessons, too. And parenting adults? There’s no guidebook. Even when I can see the train wreck coming, I’ve learned to tell myself, “Stay out of it. It’s their mistake to make. Love them anyway. Be a soft place for them to land. And don’t say ‘I told you so.’”

Mom guilt comes as part of the package, it seems. You name it, there’s something to feel guilty about. The whole “Mommy wars” thing is tied up in comparison and then shaming those who do mothering differently than we do. Breast vs. bottle? Homebirth vs. hospital birth? Public school vs. homeschool? Let’s stop that, ’mkay? It’s not a competition and different doesn’t mean wrong.

It took me many years to be comfortable with that. My kids did not have piano lessons. Only a couple took dance and a handful were involved in sports. I went to some games but not all. I’ve been known to yell. I’ve gone mama bear crazy when I found out my child was being bullied — or discriminated against because of their skin color.

And I’ve had lots of people who feel free to weigh in on my parenting, presumably because we are so unique. And, we are. My husband and I are the parents of 25 children, 19 living, 4 born to us, 20 adopted from 8 different countries and permanent legal guardians of a granddaughter. I’ve been told that I became a chronic miscarrier because God thought my family was big enough. I’ve heard that it is morally wrong to adopt. I’ve also heard I’m a saint and am going straight to heaven. Once, I was rocked by the accusations of not being enough and “doing it wrong.” Now, I don’t believe any of those things. I’m a mom trying my best to raise a family. Like every mom.

Raising a family as unique as ours, I had to learn a long time ago to detach my sense of self-worth from my kids’ behavior. My kids have punched me, bitten me, spit on and kicked me. I’ve been told that I’m not their real mom and they don’t have to listen to me, that they hate me, and that I’m the meanest mom in the world because — wait for it — I make them do chores. The horror. My husband and I have learned to parent children with special needs — physical, mental and emotional. I’ll be totally honest — it’s been easier for me to parent kids in wheelchairs than some of my kids with mental illness.

I’m never going to be a mom who stands up and says all of my kids served church missions and married in temples. I have kids on different faith journeys. I can’t get all my kids to show up for family pictures. I’m doubtful that I’ll ever be a mom who has a very tidy house. At least it hasn’t happened so far. But you know what? I am OK with that. I adore my kiddos and I love watching them find their path in life and honestly, I really don’t care that it’s different than mine. In fact, it would really be quite boring if they were all just like me. Where’s the fun in that?

Holly Richardson

Greg and Holly Richardson’s family, October 2020. (Minus 6 people who couldn’t make it)

Almost all of my children are adults now. The grandbabies are coming. Here’s what I hope they remember: a mom and a grandma who did her best. A mom who sat on the floor to do art projects and who did tie-dye shirts every year during grandma’s week. A mom who went camping and didn’t care that the kids were dirty and stinky and covered in s’mores. A mom that cared more about making memories than making sure the house was spotless. A mom who never felt like she was perfect, but one who loved deeply. In fact, if you’ll indulge me, I have a favorite Bible verse that keeps me going. In Luke 7:47, we read “Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much.”

So, the Mother’s Day talk I’d like to hear would go something like this: Let’s talk frankly. Motherhood is hard. It’s messy. It does everyone a disservice when we put moms on the pedestal of perfection — and let’s be honest: There are no perfect mothers. (And there are no perfect children.)

If you don’t feel like you fit in, join the crowd! Maybe you’ve had postpartum depression — and maybe your youngest is now 18. Maybe it’s a win when you shower that day. Maybe you’ve wanted to be a mom and it’s just not happening for you. Maybe you’ve lost babies, feel lonely and isolated, have kids who have been bullied by neighbor kids, have marriages that are falling apart or just don’t love all parts of parenting.

It’s OK.

It’s still worth it. Hang in there, mama. You’re doing a great job.

from Deseret News https://ift.tt/3bcjQ6G