"Nothing can prepare you for motherhood." I had been told that time and again by mothers of all ages and backgrounds in the time leading up to giving birth. However, until you actually give birth, I don't think there's any way to fully appreciate the reality of that statement.
Motherhood is life-defining, and I don't write that without a silent sense of inner-conflict. I believe wholeheartedly that women can not and should not be defined by their reproductive choices. But still, motherhood has been life-defining in a way that other life experiences have not. For one thing I actually like the ways in which it has changed me! It has made me a better person, and more specifically, it has made me a better Christian.
In the first few weeks of motherhood, if you had asked me what words I associate with "mother", I would have replied "fear", "guilt", and "worry". These feelings inevitably arise as you realise the outer limits of your human capability when caring for a precious little person. But in order to stop the gnawing panic consuming my sleep-deprived sanity, I had to learn to trust God – like, really trust God.
All the glib sentiments of having faith "despite what you are feeling" resonated at a new level, because becoming a parent is often becoming intimately aware of all of the dangers and tragedy that you cannot mitigate against. Generally speaking, I operate from a base level of high anxiety anyway but horror stories of cot death, fatal accidents, and the unrelenting evils of this world were sending me into a tailspin. At some point I had to force these feelings to yield to a decision to trust God and rest in his grace, and this mindset is thankfully spilling over into other areas of my life as well.
Parenthood has given me limited insight into what I must look like to God on occasion. There are times when I do things for my son's benefit that he lets the world know that he does not like, even at just four months old. One evening as I tried to give Calpol to a feverish and frustrated version of him who stubbornly refused to swallow the sticky pink syrup, I wondered how many times this had been me. How many times had I been the child struggling and kicking against the firm embrace of a loving God? "Please trust me, just let me do this for your own good," I pleaded with him, but I could have been talking to myself during any instance of firm love or careful discipline I've experienced in my Christian life.
While I definitely have underestimated my son's level of awareness and intelligence at times, the gap in knowledge and understanding between us both is clear. The amount of times that gap is magnified when thinking about my humanity and an omniscient God cannot even be fully understood, so as much as my infant child unquestionably relies on his flawed and limited mother, how much more should I trust God?
Really all this thinking about faith and trust comes down to a simple question of whether I really believe that God is good. Any parent can relate to the raw nerve that is pinched when someone challenges their parenting decisions, because ultimately such inquiries feel like an indirect questioning of our love for our child. Do we know what we are doing? Are we really doing what is in their best interest? Do we love our children in the right way?
I've realised that when I second guess God, I'm doing the exact same thing. I'm saying that I don't believe he knows or wants what is best for me. I am calling his love into question. Does God take it as personally as I do when someone second guesses my parenting? Probably not, but still it is me who misses out on the benefits that come with a peaceful heart that is secure in its faith.
The abstract nature of having a "Heavenly Father" suddenly became more tangible upon the birth of my son. I would never consider giving him a stone in place of bread, so how much more can be said of God? I can't ever imagine forsaking my child, but even with that remote possibility, God has said he will not forsake me.
Understanding what it means to be a mother has had a powerful impact on how I understand myself as a child, both to my earthly parents and as a child of our Father. I struggle to even wrap my mind around the love that I feel for my son, but in acknowledging that, I realise that I can only begin to scratch at the surface of a love that is so pure and all encompassing that a Father would send his Son to die in its name.
I may not fully comprehend it but diving faith-first into that love is a way of getting to know it more. Operating in that truth is making me a better Christian, which makes me a better person overall, and of course by extension it makes me a better mother to my darling little boy.
