Comparisons May 3, 2009
Lately going to church has been an issue for us. It’s not that we don’t like going. But at nine months old, Skylar takes just one nap a day – usually around 10:30, which is exactly when church begins. I’ve tried putting her down early before we leave, but she isn’t tired then. And Sky is an active child, the exact opposite of those mythical, laid-back babies you hear about who fall asleep effortlessly wherever they are. We don’t want to miss out on church completely, so we go and I drop her off in the nursery, telling the staff to please, please come and get me if she won’t stop crying.
Last week when I picked Sky up the staff sweetly told me she’d been “a little fussy, but not that bad.” Megan, an angel who works in the nursery almost every week, said she’d taken Sky on a walk and that had calmed her down. As I scooped up my baby and her diaper bag, apologizing as usual, I noticed Christian, a baby two weeks older than Sky, sleeping soundly in a crib by the wall. The lights were on and kids were playing loudly right next to him, but still baby Christian slept. Don’t compare, said a voice in my head as Skylar squirmed in my arms.
I have to admit, I’ve been tempted to compare myself to others my whole life. It never leads anywhere good – pride if I think I’m better off, or jealousy if I feel worse. It occurred to me on Sunday though, that comparing my child is another thing completely. I might just be thinking of myself (if only Sky were calmer, things would be easier for me), but as a mother I should really be thinking of her. If she subtly picks up on the way I wish she were more like someone else, she’ll end up either resenting me or feeling insecure or both. And the last thing I mean to do is make my daughter feel like her God-given personality is inadequate.
I’m only at the beginning of my life as a parent, but I’m starting to learn how things that seem small – a little comparing, a little jealousy – might have a lasting effect on my daughter and our relationship. I am so glad that the Bible promises me wisdom if I ask for it, and that God gives it “generously to all without finding fault” (James 1:5).
Children are like the ultimate reflection of ourselves, and so of course you wish she was “easier” on the nursery staff. My niece cannot live without or tolerate being held by anyone but her mama, and my poor brother fears she’ll never be able to bond with anyone else. As an outsider I know she will, but as a parent, he’s so wrapped up in both loving her and fearing he won’t be loved by her that it clouds his judgment. I have read a million times that parenting AFTER infertility can be such a…well, letdown is close to the word I’m looking for…but basically our minds build up all this expectation about what motherhood and children are the reality bursts that bubble pretty hard. All that to say that I’m glad you’re sharing your feelings b/c it’s healthy and will allow the Lord to continue to craft your mothering heart.
I do believe becoming a mother after infertility shapes your perspective as a parent. My goal is for it to have a positive effect! I hope it makes me more patient, grateful, and sensitive. But of course, these qualities don’t come easily… at least not for me! I need to choose them over and over. As always, thank you for your encouraging words.