Tag: Motherhood

PPD: Women who overcome infertility are not immune

~ K ~ Leave a comment

sad_mother

Most people don’t think of postpartum mood issues (in short, PPD) in relation to infertility. I sure didn’t.

I’ve written numerous times (here, here, and here) over the years about my struggle with infertility. It was a struggle of 4+ years and I dreamed that once I had my child, all would be right with the world. The dream I had desired for so long would come true and I would get to hold my baby in my arms and love him immediately.

Because I have struggled with bipolar disorder and anxiety issues in the past, I was a prime candidate for suffering from PPD. But I tried to remain optimistic. A baby is what I had long wanted. I would get it; PPD be damned.

Often, you hear the stories about how women overcome infertility and their dream of having a child comes true. And it’s the best thing ever. They instantly fall in love with the baby of their dreams and everything seems wonderful except for that darned newborn period when you don’t get sleep. (But that’s pretty much everybody, right?)

What about the stories of women who struggle with infertility and then get PPD? No one talks about them. We feel guilty because for so long we wanted a child and now that we’ve received one, we don’t feel a bond. We don’t feel a connection. We worry too much about hurting the dream we had so longed for. We lose touch with reality and nearly harm our child or even ourselves. Panic attacks over losing our baby or taking care of our baby are a daily occurrence. Or we simply cannot get out of bed, too depressed to care for this human being who is completely and totally dependent on us.

Then there’s the added guilt of knowing that there are mothers—tons of other mothers—who are silently suffering the loss of what could be. Many mothers grieving month after month over not having a child. And here we are, finally over that hurdle. And we feel horrible. We don’t want this child. We don’t care for it. Take it away. I don’t want to see it. I’m a bad mother; I can’t care for this kid. But there are so many women who want a baby just like I have one. I have to love this kid—for them.

But those who suffer from PPD after infertility should know they are not alone. The internal pressure we give ourselves to be happy during (what should be) a joyous occasion can often be a tight cord around our neck. It’s OK to admit that after your years-long struggle that you’re not exactly overjoyed to be holding that “bundle of joy” in your arms. What’s NOT OK is pretending that everything is fine and trying to suck it up. This isn’t the time to pull yourself up by your bootstraps. This is the time to seek help. And there is no shame in admitting that you’re feeling sad, anxious, or worried about your mental health.

Reading this and don’t know where to turn? Here are a few resources:

  • Postpartum Progress – Katherine Stone runs this advocacy organization to help raise awareness about postpartum issues among mothers, clinicians, and the general population. You can also discover great information via the Postpartum Progress blog.
  • Postpartum Support International – Another organization that helps guide women through the changes surrounding them during the postpartum period. It offers resources, such as a toll-free hotline specifically catering to those with postpartum mental health needs.
  • Postpartum Stress Center – This center provides professional support to women suffering from postpartum mood issues. It’s worth noting that PPD tends to be a catch-all abbreviation for conditions such as depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolar disorder, and psychosis, to name a few. The Stress Center tends to serve residents in the eastern PA area but will help those outside of the region find a local resource.

Remember, PPD can affect anyone, infertile or not. Don’t be afraid to seek help as soon as you recognize that something isn’t right. The sooner you get help (even if you think it’s just the baby blues), chances are, you’ll recover more quickly. Get your life back. Get help today.

Damn, you’re a good mother.

~ K ~ 1 Comment

mom_mugI bought this mug from knockknockstuff.com, which was originally intended to be a gift mug for Mother’s Day (to another mom). (The back says “Just look how I turned out.”) But I bought this mug for myself, placed it squarely in view on my desk to tell myself each and every day, “Damn, you’re a good mother.”

I have to admit, however, that almost every time I look at the mug, I want to grab it and hurl it against the wall because I don’t believe it. This is my lame attempt to speak truth into my life. And my heart can’t accept it and won’t allow it. Because in my mind, I am not a good mother. I bordered on postpartum psychosis the first time I held my son, dealt with severe postpartum depression for months, and lost time with him for about 20 months. That’s time that I’ll never get back. How could I have been a good mother? A better mother even?

I could run down a list of shortcomings:

  • Full-time working mom with many late nights
  • Previously hands off on his care (eg, creating meals for him, diaper changes, watching him by myself)
  • Daycare (instead of me) teaches him most everything he knows

Beatles_sgtpepper_t-shirt The only plus in my column toward being a good mother? He can say “George” and “Paul” from my Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band t-shirt. (We’re working on John and Ringo.) I think that makes me a serious kick-ass mom. That’s how I justify my terrible shortcomings.

It’s the “damn” part that gets me, I suppose. The idea that I’m so awesome and so amazing, it warrants the use of an (OK, mild) expletive. Perhaps I could tolerate “You’re a good mother.” But “Damn, you’re a good mother” says “Look at me! I’m so awesome that I’m kicking ass at this mothering thing!” Like a black dude looks at another black woman and says, “Damn, you fine!” This mug looks at me and says in a similar tone, “Damn, you’re a good mother.” I’m glad the mug has a period. An exclamation point would probably have been overkill for me.

So, here I am, stumbling and fumbling through this mothering thing, feeling inadequate while I have this mug that tries to tell me otherwise. I can pretend my son gave it to me. The back—”Just look at how I turned out”—speaks volumes. My son is healthy and simply the happiest kid on earth. Sure, he’s a toddler with his whiny, crying phases but he’s the happiest kid in his classroom and the teachers all insist that he doesn’t give them any problems.

I’ve been very hands off this mothering thing until recently. I don’t know whether I’m doing a good job. But I’m in his life and he’s made it almost 22 months so far, so I guess I’m a damn good mother.

Hanging on by a thread

~ K ~ 2 Comments

Still struggling.

Feeling hopeless. Like a disappointment. Like a failure.

Having someone take care of my son part-time feels like a failure on my part. Like I can’t hack this mom thing.

Oh, and I just got my yearly reminder in the mail: I have a frozen embryo on tap. What do I want to do with it?

I want to discard it. Because I can’t imagine that I can be a good mother a second time around. I’m having a hard time being a good mom THIS time around.

But I won’t. My morals (belief in the value of life and all that jazz) won’t let me do that.

Postpartum depression, anxiety, OCD—all of it—has taken a hold of my soul and won’t let go. I have cried several times this week. More times than I’ve cried since the sixth week of my son’s life.

The screechy crying. It’s like the wail of a dying baby. It never ceases to freak me out. I feel like such a horrible mom for strapping him into the car seat while he’s crying and then the high-pitched wail reverberates through the car sending figurative splinters under my nails.

I still have thoughts of suicide but little impulse to act upon it. Right now.

I’m still here.

https://thisjourneyismyown.wordpress.com/selected-lyrics/by-a-thread/

In search of an identity… motherhood.

~ K ~ 1 Comment

I’m a mother now. After nearly 5 years of waiting, a dream has come true. But I’m afraid. So many women become moms and their identity is swallowed up in their children. They forget they are individuals with likes and dislikes and revolve their worlds around their kids.

I don’t want that to be me. I want to continue being the Kass I was before I got pregnant without the incessant melancholy over infertility. However, I do want to pursue my own interests and take time to care for myself and feed my soul. I want to expand my interests and seek new horizons.

  • I still want to be a part of the battle for others to overcome infertility.
  • I want to champion awareness of mental illness: PPD, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, ADHD, OCD, depression, anxiety, and many other mood disorders.
  • I want to expand my horizons professionally and attend conferences that will challenge me, engage me, and help me grow.
  • I want to expand my horizons personally by connection with supportive women online and offline.
  • I want to support non-profit organizations wholeheartedly, e.g., Postpartum Progress, Food for the Hungry, International Justice Mission, and Amnesty International.
  • I want to educate the wider Christian community about fertility options and treatments.
  • I want to enjoy my work as a library assistant.
  • I want to enjoy my work as a freelance editor.
  • I want to be a loving, supportive wife.
  • I want to be able to splurge (occasionally) on myself.

I don’t want my identity to revolve around my son (as cute as he is).

I know, I know, I’m a Christian so my identity should be based on Christ. Perhaps it’s better to say that I don’t want my personality to be swallowed up by motherhood. The following is a list of things I plan to do for me—to remind myself life isn’t just about my son:

  • I plan on treating a friend (and myself) to a massage for relaxation.
  • I plan on registering for the Warrior Mom conference that takes place in 2015.
  • I plan on being in a wedding in August.
  • I plan on attending another friend’s wedding in August
  • I plan on going to an editorial conference in September.
  • I plan on attending an editor’s conference in March 2015.

I hope to enjoy life more. I want to blog more. A lot of people would add travel to that list. Nope, not me; I’m a happy homebody. I’ll see the Eiffel Tower on the Internet and not deal with turbulence on an airplane over the ATLANTIC OCEAN, kthxbai.

I want to see Justin Timberlake in concert again but not by myself. Alas, some dreams aren’t meant to be realized.

My experience with postpartum depression (PPD)

~ K ~ 2 Comments

My postpartum depression (PPD) was instant. The day my son was born—after my placenta was taken out—my pregnancy hormones plummeted and my emotions went off a cliff.

I cried nearly every day for the first 5 weeks of my son’s life. What should have been a happy, joyous time in my life was filled with overwhelming sadness and hopelessness. I felt guilty about everything:

  • I didn’t know how to take care of this being who was so completely dependent upon me
  • I had waited so long for him but was unable to enjoy him
  • I was failing not only as a mother but also a wife

The characteristics of PPD? You name it, I had it.

  • Constant crying
  • Feelings of hopelessness
  • Feelings of worthlessness
  • Scary thoughts
  • Trouble bonding
  • Guilt
  • Anger
  • Sadness
  • Suicidal thoughts

And very many other things.

People encouraged me to have confidence as a mother but I now recognize that confidence is something that develops over time. I’m more confident with my son 9 weeks postpartum but I’ll probably feel ever better 19 weeks postpartum.

I like to think I’m out of the woods with PPD. Feelings of intense sadness, hopelessness, and worthlessness have gone away. Scary thoughts have mostly disappeared. Panic attacks, which used to be frequent, have become rare. But I’m not out of the woods yet. I’m still adjusting to this motherhood thing. I’m still afraid of hurting my son. Sometimes I’m afraid that I made the biggest mistake of my life—one that I can never undo.

I frequently don’t feel up to the challenge of being a mother. Even though it requires very little from me (eg, changing diapers, bottle feeding), it feels as though I have to give the world.

I want to enjoy motherhood—fully and completely. Although I have glimmers and moments, I’m still very scared to be alone with my son. I am highly dependent upon others to help me take care of him.

In one sense, that’s great—I have a supportive and loving community. On the other hand, I feel like a complete and utter loser.

I’m still in the middle of my PPD journey. Nine weeks postpartum and I’ve made some progress. But I have a long way to go.

My Son’s Birth Story

~ K ~ 4 Comments

The following post recounts how my son was born. It gets detailed at times in terms of body language but that’s just par for the course in describing these kinds of stories. Buckle in; it’s a long read. Continue reading “My Son’s Birth Story” →

Fertility Clinics

~ K ~ Leave a comment

My expectations of fertility clinics has changed now that I’ve been through the ringer twice. I used to expect (naive little me) that fertility clinics would be warm, welcoming places for couples who were suffering through infertility. Now I know better. Now I know that it’s a business, and fertility clinics are only out to make money—helping people get pregnant is just a means to an end.

The first time around at the fertility clinic, the nurses were nice, but the doctors cool and impersonal. My husband and I were just another number, just another dollar sign. I still get upset when I think of my first and last IUI (intrauterine insemination) there. The doctor was so flippant about how he thought it wouldn’t work. It’s like he took a dump on our $800 before flushing it down the toilet.

But I’m going back to a fertility clinic—a different one this time. I’m not as naive as the first time around. I get it. I’m a huge dollar sign. The more advanced the treatment (see IVF), the better. But I’ve got limits. I will have these doctors, however impersonal they are, help me get pregnant. I’ll attempt IUIs but not much more than that (mostly because I can’t afford it).

I guess I should admit that I’m grateful that the nurses weren’t impersonal, but were even kind, warm, and caring. But there’s nothing caring about getting a cold internal ultrasound shoved in your uterus. But ovulation kits don’t work for me so I need to rely on the advanced, expensive stuff.

After almost 4 years of trying to get pregnant and not succeeding, I know we need medical intervention. At the new fertility clinic, we could have up to a 2-hour consultation with the doctor. I hope the detailed history and visit will prove beneficial to producing a child later this year.

Sigh.

I have the funny feeling if I get the privilege of being a mom, I’m going to have one high-maintenance kid (a lot like his mother).

Infertility. There. I Said It.

~ K ~ Leave a comment

Two years ago, I began a journey to have a kid. I wrote about the implications of trying to conceive (TTC) and mental illness on my other blog, depression introspection, more than a year ago.

Now thousands of dollars and a few medical treatments later, I am still childless. Sure, I haven’t been on the infertility journey for as long as many other couples but to hear doctors already talking IVF (in vitro fertilization) doesn’t give me much hope.

I’ve been using my conception journey as a form of gauging how much God loves me. Yes, I know, it’s inaccurate. Yes, I know, being childless is not God’s way of punishing me and my husband. I know these things.

And then I see people conceive on the first try. “Fertile Myrtle.” I watch other women cry over brief pregnancies and think, “You’re still more of a mother than I’ve ever been.”

It’s interesting how there are different ranges of infertility. In the course of two years, most couples who have tried for that long have experienced at least one miscarriage. So far, we have no hope that we can ever conceive a child. And it makes me angry.

I’m angry because I thought God called us to be parents. I’m angry because I hated kids, didn’t want them, and now I’m sitting here grieving over what I don’t have and money I hoped would get me to where I wanted to be.

I’m sad because I watch parents take their children for granted and not realize what a blessing it is to have what so many others cannot.

And I’m angry with God. Because this is all under His control. At the end of the day, I play roulette with science and hope in God. And God consistently tells me “no.”

So what am I supposed to do? Where do I turn now? Where do I go?

I know that being pregnant won’t make things A-OK with God. I have a lot of issues to work through. My husband does too. But I just want to know that I’m not some woman filled with a delusion of being a mom. I want to know that God is somewhere saying, “Yeah, keep working at it, but not yet.” I want to know that He still cares about me and my husband.

And I was really hoping to give a big middle finger to the doctor who made us feel like we were wasting our money during the last cycle. I guess he knows what he’s talking about and we’re the fools who threw money into a long-shot gamble.

I’m just beside myself with grief and pain today.

Children Don’t Belong to Moms; They Are A Loan from God

~ K ~ 5 Comments

Image: phanlop88 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

After hearing a good friend’s testimony on Saturday, I was reminded of an important truth. Maybe it wasn’t so much a reminder as it was a revelation: “my” children won’t belong to me. They will be “on loan” from God. As a result, only He only will choose when to lend me His creation. Just like library materials aren’t completely mine or Netflix movies aren’t mine but I’m fully responsible for them when they’re in my possession, so it is with the children bestowed upon me. I must remember that God is not withholding anything that is “rightfully mine.” (Technically, nothing is.) I should look at motherhood as a privilege God will allow me to partake in rather than something I inherently deserve simply because of my gender.

I hope I can remember this as I struggle with childlessness each month.

I’ve Been Rejecting God’s Reality and Substituting My Own

~ K ~ 2 Comments
Because in Ahmadinejad’s anti-Semitic world, the Holocaust didn’t happen.

I’ve often thought of myself as being able to relate to the Biblical character Job, but lately I find myself falling in line with Jonah.

A (not very) brief synopsis of the Book of Jonah:

God commissions Jonah to preach repentance from sin to the town of Nineveh (or else God will bring calamity upon the town). Jonah, an Israelite, hates the Ninevites who are enemies of Israelites. Jonah’s not really happy about this commission from God because He knows God won’t act ruthlessly against these people so he runs.

He flees. He does all he can to get away from God and the mission he’s been sent to do.

After causing grief in the lives of some sea men who are caught in a tempest, they throw him into the water where he gets swallowed up by a whale for three days and three nights. Jonah repents of his attempt to escape God and his mission and the whale vomits him out on to land.

Jonah, eager to get his mission over with, completes a three-day journey to Nineveh in one day. He walks into the city crying, “Yet forty days and Nineveh will be overthrown.” From what readers can tell, Jonah does not elaborate on this statement; he only repeats that Nineveh’s doomed in 40 days.

And what Jonah expected to happen happens. The Ninevites repent and turn to the God of Israel, asking for forgiveness from their wicked ways.

How frustrating for Jonah. This turn of events makes God spare the lives of these people.

In the last chapter of the book, Jonah sits outside of the city waiting for what he knows will not happen: the destruction and complete annihilation of Nineveh. He rants at God angrily for having the following attributes:

  • Being gracious
  • Being merciful
  • Being slow to anger
  • Abounding in steadfast love
  • Relenting from disaster

Jonah hates the fact that God extends these attributes to people he can’t stand and begs for death. God answers him and challenges him:

“Do you have good reason to be angry?”

At first, Jonah doesn’t answer. God leaves it alone.

Then the sun and scorching heat bear down on Jonah and God allows a plant to grow over him to give him some relief. This makes Jonah happy.

Then God allows a worm to kill the plant overnight, leaving Jonah back in the sun and heat again. Again, Jonah puts his life back on the table, begging to die. God calmly asks:

“Do you have good reason to be angry about the plant?”

Jonah rages now: “Yeah, I got good reason to be angry. So angry I want to die!”

God declares checkmate against Jonah, challenging Jonah’s care of a dead plant that he did not labor to produce against God’s care for the people and animals of a big city that He created.

That’s the end of the chapter. No further response from Jonah. My supposition is that either Jonah was probably too pissed off to continue writing what occurred after or that Jonah was too embarrassed by his subsequent reaction that he didn’t record it. Perhaps God, in His loving compassion, didn’t require him to.

In the reading of this chapter, I discover that I am very much like Jonah. I run and flee from God. I don’t like the tasks He’s put before me and I’d rather do something else. And Tuesday night, I was angry—angry unto death.

Like Jonah, I need to accept what God’s mission is for me (job) rather than the mission I want to create for myself (motherhood). To quote Adam Savage from the hit TV show “Mythbusters,” I’ve been telling God:

“I reject your reality and substitute my own!”

It is clear in a variety of ways that God’s mission for me right now is to focus on my job. He is blessing in me in that realm through agent interest, independent contracting, further education, increased job responsibilities, and possibly a new position. I’ve been a complete fool to overlook the ways that God is blessing me in this area.

And while I’d love to become a mother, it’s clear that’s not what God wants for me right now. While it makes me sad and it’s okay for me to grieve over the death of this dream monthly, I need to press forward with the mission God has charged me with rather than trying to run away in an opposite direction, causing grief to those around me. Am as I happy about my mission as Jonah? Probably, since I’ve been hoping for my mission to come to fruition for a while. But I’ll try to accept where God has me and what He wants me to do before I become a mother (should that ever happen).

Okay, God, so here’s what I’ll try my best to do:

I reject my reality and substitute Your own.

More on motherhood & the battle with envy

~ K ~ Leave a comment

What does it look like for God to be working in my life? What do I expect?

In August 2008, God flicked some kind of switch inside of me that made me desire to have children. I was absolutely distraught upon the realization of this. I’d never desired children of my own before then. In fact, my current husband and I nearly broke up over the issue when we were dating because I was so adamant about not wanting to give bear children.

But a lot can change in a few years.

That August, I cried my little heart out because I never, ever wanted to have kids of my own. I didn’t want to be pregnant and I didn’t want to go through labor. (I still don’t but it’s kind of necessary to have a baby biologically.) I was very angry with God. And in many ways, I still struggle with this because I simply didn’t think it was fair for Him to change my heart to something I never wanted. (Nevermind the fact that He controls the universe and other important miscellany.)

Before that fateful August, I could babysit kids or serve in the church nursery and think to myself, “Ah, this is the best form of birth control.” Now, my heart aches because every time I hold a child, I know I’ll have to give it back because it’s not my own. And it’s frustrating to feel this way when I know the happiness of not feeling that way.

I don’t like talking about my desire for children because I’m still not completely comfortable with it. But then again, I’m not completely comfortable with the fact that I’m a woman with an emotional pendulum now.

I need to accept that as a result of getting older, some things will change. My moods are like roller coasters and I cry more often. And boy, do I hate crying. In fact, I loathe it. I loathe it when women cry at the drop of a hat. And to become one of those women disturbs me.

So now I cry at least once a month when I am faced with the fact that it is yet another month that I am not with child. The crazy thing is, I don’t think I want a child that badly. But I do find myself a bit more sympathetic to women of the Bible like Sarah, Hannah, and Rachel who struggled with barrenness—especially since their worth was essentially based off of whether they could bear children and how many of them they had bore (namely sons).

And with a few pregnant friends, I find myself battling with envy. I want to be totally happy for them. What bothers me most is that two years ago, I was able to be genuinely happy. But now, I think to myself, “Why not me? What’s wrong with me? Am I meant to have a child? My cycle works just fine so why is it taking me so long?” I wouldn’t want to take away from the happiness of any of my friends but at the same time, I find that my envy prevents me from being happy for them as I’d normally be.

I tried to explain my puzzlement over my enviousness to my husband. I said, “I don’t think I’ve really struggled with this until I desired a kid of my own.” He countered, “Oh yes, you do.” He began listing a few moments in my life where envy reared its ugly head and I immediately found myself forced to agree with him.

“Remember how you felt when you saw what your college classmates were doing and where they worked?”

Oh yeah. They worked at the New York Times, the NY Daily News, the NY Post, Newsday. Ah yes, and Newsday, a place I could have worked at too. (Now, I’m glad I effectively slammed the door shut on the opportunity. It’s a sinking ship.)

I spoke to a friend recently telling her of my struggle with envy. She wisely encouraged me to repent of my sin.

My youth & the prospect of motherhood

~ K ~ 7 Comments

An issue I struggle with is not coming to terms with my age. I recently turned 28 but am often told I look like I’m barely 21. (This agelessness runs in my family.) Since I don’t look 28 and don’t “feel” 28, I don’t consider myself to be 28. I still view my peers to be older than me. (In many instances, they are but not by much.)

So when I see so many of my friends getting pregnant and having children, I am baffled as to why there is this baby boom I’m stuck in the middle of. I’ve always looked at other pregnant women and thought, “I’m too young for that.” I tell my husband that I hate being part of trends so I’ll probably wait until all my friends are done having kids. Then he drops the bomb on me: if I wait, I’ll be 40 before I can have kids.

My husband proceeded to tell me in no uncertain terms that the reason many of my friends are pregnant is because we’re all at that age. While I’ve accepted that my friends are old enough to have steady jobs, get married, and have kids, I never lumped myself in that group. I’ve always thought “I’m too young to have kids” when I’ve grown into an age when it is acceptable for me to do so.

Having been brought up in the New York City (NYC) metro area, I grew up with the mindset that I’d graduate from college, become a career woman, get married between the ages of 25-30, and maybe (maybe) have or adopt children in my 30’s—if ever. In NYC, children are not something you seriously consider before the age of 30.

My mindset has been perpetually stuck at 21 despite the fact that I’ve graduated college. Factually, I know I’m an adult, I can drink alcohol legally, hold down a job responsibly, and get married. Factually, I understand this like 2 + 2 = 4. And for a long time, I was always the youngest in the family, looking up to older people so I still possess that “I’m a baby” mentality. And babies shouldn’t be having babies, right?

But I’m not a baby anymore. Someone needs to hammer into my head that I’m almost 30 and married. Someone needs to shake me and tell me I’m a responsible adult now and it’s okay for me to have children before the age of 33. Someone needs to tell me that I’m getting old and by the time I start to “feel” 30, it’ll be too late for me to have kids.

Readers already over 30 years of age will probably scoff and think, “Oh, whatever. You’re still young.” I’m not arguing the fact that I’m still young. What I am saying is that I’m not as young as I think. And it’s a problem I’m not sure how to rectify.

Still searching for an identity… part 1

~ K ~ 6 Comments

Topics running through my mind:

1. Motherhood
2. Writing
3. Blogging
4. Career
5. Job with contract company
6. Faith/religion/God
7. Lack of consistency/discipline
8. My personality–always desiring to be someone I’m not

My mind is all over the place so let’s cover all of these topics–though not necessarily in the order listed and definitely not all in this post. I ended up handwriting this post first (over the course of 2 hours) which amounted to about 22 pages on 7″ x 10.5″ paper. So this will end up being a series posted during the next couple of days.

Desiring to be someone who I’m not.

So I follow all these pastors, read their works, and am a HUGE fan, ie, Driscoll, Piper, and Packer. And sometimes I find myself wishing I could be a pastor. But it’s not a dream I can entertain myself with since I’m a woman and believe the Bible says only men are called to be pastors. (Yes, I know female pastors exist but I don’t agree with them.)

I find myself thinking, “Lord, why didn’t you make me a guy?” But then I realize guys don’t have it easy. My husband has to answer to God for the spiritual direction of our family. No, thank you. It’s hard enough being responsible for myself!

I used to look at other women and wish I could be them–wish I could have their lives or attractive personalities. For example, my older cousin whom I love to pieces. I used to look up to her. In a lot of ways, I still do. She’s strong, she’s a leader, she’s independent, and she’s self-sufficient. But she’s not married and doesn’t have any good prospects in the wings (that I know of). Do I really want to trade my husband just so I can have all those awesome qualities I am so envious of?

Funny like one of my friends. I wish I was like that. I wish I was sweet and likable like my former co-worker. I wish I didn’t care what anyone thinks of me like my hairdresser. Who looks at me and gets envious? But I guess we can all find something to envy about each other, right?

Materialism.

I’m not incredibly materialistic but hoo boy am I definitely tied to the things of this world. Money–something I use, not necessarily for material possessions (although my current obsession is IKEA), but to make myself feel worth something.

Yes, I tie my worth to whether I make money. Problem is, I don’t know how to “untie” it.

When a month or two go by and I haven’t heard from the company I contract for regularly, I self-deprecate and get negative:

“What if they never call me again?”

“What if my work from last time was sloppy and they just don’t want me back?”

“I’m not earning any money so I’m worthless and useless and my life and existence is pointless.”

But when I work, I suddenly have worth again. I feel I can legitimately complain about how the government uses taxpayer money because 30 percent of what I make goes to state and federal taxes each quarter. (That’s what happens when you’re self-employed in the U.S.!)

But what will happen when my full-time job becomes mother? How will I assess my worth then? Will I be worthless as a citizen of the U.S. with a purposeful existence as a mother? Will I be more useful than I’ve ever been?

My husband argues that his money is my money. I don’t see it that way. I have access to his earnings and he can have access to mine (I make significantly less than he does so he rarely has any need to) but I treat our earnings separately. I tithe off of whatever I make and don’t ever touch his. I don’t feel right taking his money–that he worked 40+ hours during the week to earn–and acting like it’s mine. I didn’t earn it. I never showed up to code a software program; he did. It’s not mine. And buying a gift with his money just seems so lame; I’d rather buy nothing at all. I can inherit it if he dies–just like I inherit my mother’s house–but it’s not mine until then. I’ll use it with his permission but I’ll always feel indebted to him. (Out-of-context verse time!) The borrower is slave to the lender.

Motherhood.

I don’t like to publicly discuss this in detail since I never wanted kids before last year and still really wrestle with the prospect of being a responsible, mature mom. As a result, I’ll be brief: I’m impatient, I’m disappointed every time I find out I’m not expecting, and I wonder if motherhood is what God has for me.