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Today’s post is a guest post by my friend Sarah Mae. And, technically, we’ve never met in real life but that will change this October when I speak at the Allume Conference because she is the founder of Allume and so chances are good she’ll be there.
Anyway, Sarah Mae has written a beautiful book with Sally Clarkson called Desperate: Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breathe. If you’re in the trenches of motherhood and feel like you struggle so often to get it right and not lose yourself (or your mind) in the process, then Desperate is for you. It’s a young mother’s honest account of the desperate feelings experienced in motherhood and her experienced mentor’s realistic encouragement and wisdom gained from the years of raising her own four children.
The kindle version of Desperate is on sale for $3.99 today only. And there’s also a Desperate DVD curriculum which includes a Q & A with Sarah Mae and Sally. Plus, there’s a special promotion this week to celebrate the launch of the DVDs. When you buy five paperback copies of Desperate, you can receive a free copy of the DVD if you send in a picture or scanned receipt to firstname.lastname@example.org.
Best of all, one of you has the chance to win a paperback copy of Desperate along with the DVD on the blog today. All you have to do is leave a comment on this post. Maybe something pertaining to motherhood. I’ll leave comments open all week and email the winner on Friday.
“Daily life is very seductive. Weeks go by and we forget who we are.” -Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones
I can’t pinpoint the moment I felt it, and I don’t know when it began.
But what I know is that somewhere between holding my first-born baby girl and telling three little ones to get in bed for the seemingly hundredth time, I forgot who I was. I got lost in motherhood, and while the swim is precious and beautiful and life-giving, I’m not sure how to find my way to the oxygen-filled space that I used to occupy. You know, that time, that space where you had room to breathe? When life wasn’t all sleepless nights and diapers and potty-training and…responsibility. I mean, we’re talking souls here, that are in our charge. That’s heavy. And I am so ill-equipped! I’m painfully selfish, and I really love to sleep. And yet, I’m a mom. Of three children. Who have souls and who depend on me for food and care and life.
That kind of responsibility.
Which I love, by the way. I love being a mother, truly. I think my kids are stellar people (most of time, except for when their sin-natures rear their uncivilized heads…which is every 15 minutes…which is just like me, too). But seriously, I have always wanted to be a mother. The thing is, I’m not a natural at it, and I learned through these last seven and half years of parenting that just because you love something doesn’t mean it will come naturally or easily to you. And no one tells you that somewhere in the midst of it all, you will start disappearing and some sweat pants wearing, greasy face, stringy hair someone who resembles you will take your place. Body snatchers, motherhood style…minus the style, of course. Because that went with the sweats.
So that oxygen-filled space where you were becoming, that spirit which filled-out your un-stretch-marked skin – where is she? Does she exist anymore or do you make room for a hybrid you?
Here’s what I’m thinking…
Remember Felicity, the show? Do you remember the theme song? There’s a line it in that goes, “Can you become a new version of you?” Let’s reminisce shall we?
I have said so many times that I feel like I’m a shell of the woman I once was, and it depressed me. But now I’m feeling like, yea, good, because I’m shedding old skin and transforming and becoming into new skin; I am evolving into a new version of the woman God knit together; it’s a stretching and a turning as new colors emerge. I’m figuring it all out new; I’m figuring me out new. And I am so unbelievably good with that. Probably because I’m finally getting sane after seven years, because I’m sleeping. Hallelujah.
Also, I bought skinny jeans. Well, after I bought the mom jeans and my husband shook his head at me. But then, then I bought the skinnies.
So friend, if you are feeling a little rocked by motherhood and are wondering who you are, hang in there. You are there; you are more than then the daily-ness of it all. You are not lost, you just need to stretch into the new version of who you already are. Let it be fun and exciting, this exploration of you again. Bring your kids and your husband along for the ride. And for the love, don’t give into the mom jeans.