When I became pregnant with our
oldest child a month after getting married at the beginning of my junior year
of college, I had to fight for her life. Not physically, but verbally. I had to
fight for her right to life, for
recognition of the beauty her new life was. Surprisingly, some of her biggest
critics were students and professors at my small Christian school. From snide
comments about a “rush wedding” (I would hardly call a wedding planned a year
in advance “rushed”) to questions asking me “Just how many days pregnant are
you, anyway? And how many days have you been married?” I began dreading people
finding out about my pregnancy.
I recall one professor late in my
pregnancy asking me when my due date was. When I told him, he looked at me and
told me about a young couple he knew who had gotten pregnant immediately
following their wedding day. Their baby was born a month early with a normal
birth weight, and everyone wondered if the couple had lied about the actual due
date to cover up their sin. He then lowered his glasses, looked me straight in
the eye, and, raising one eyebrow, told me that he hoped our baby didn’t show
up early because “you know what everyone is going to think!”
I became a bit of a scandal on
campus, with those not knowing me assuming I was pregnant and not married (“*gasp*
Did you hear we have a pregnant class president?!” “Really?! Why hasn’t the
administration kicked her out?!”—true conversation overheard) and those
marginally knowing me wondering a) had I gotten pregnant before we got married
and b) why was I throwing my life and career away by having a baby so soon
after marriage—and still in school?!
The focus on the potential negative
aspects of my pregnancy came as a shock to me. For one thing, I was at a
conservative Christian college where children are purportedly celebrated.
Secondly, even if the timing wasn’t ideal, why was there so much focus and
insinuation rather than support or encouragement?
The negativity from students and
professors didn’t stop with my pregnancy, however, or with believers. Soon
after giving birth, hormones amuck and me struggling to figure out the world of
caring for a child, I would venture out in public and be stopped by all manner
of people. Strangers would comment on how beautiful she was and then warn me, “Enjoy
it now—it won’t last and soon you’ll be wishing she was a newborn again!” or “You
think it’s hard now—just wait until it really
gets hard.” When she started talking and I posted about it on Facebook, rather
than excited comments, I received ones saying, “Just wait a little bit longer and
you’ll be wishing she would STOP talking” and “Trust me—it won’t be long and
you won’t be quite so excited!!”
As a mom in the middle of the
night, sleep-deprived, baby tugging at me and husband sleeping across the room,
I recall sobbing as I remembered several old-time mothers who told me to “Cherish
every moment. Before you know it, your baby is grown up and out of the house
and you are left all alone.” Yikes! Already highly emotional and wrapping my
exhausted mind around the fact that I had a child, I was picturing her
going away to college…getting married…having children…and then me standing
there at her gravesite. I know that some of those moms were trying to be helpful
and encourage me to not let other things get in the way over prioritizing my
children, but the strenuous nature in which they told me their own stories and
emphasized how fast life goes and how much regret you have later only served to
deepen my post-partum despair and guilt.
Since that point I have had another
live child (now a healthy almost-two-year-old) and two miscarriages at 5 weeks
and a baby boy at 16 weeks. I have grown hesitant to
post things on Facebook and think critically about every general status I post
regarding my children, wondering warily, “Is there someone who is going to tell
me, “Just wait until….”? (I can’t even count the number of people who have told
me some variant of, “Just wait until they’re teenagers and then you’ll wish
they had never been born.”)
Similarly, there is a mommies’ group that I am
a part of where I have grown careful about what I post. Many moms post funny
stories from their day, but the few times I have or the many times I have read
another mom’s post, rather than fellow mothers commenting with laughter or
funny tie-ins of their own, many post unsolicited advice or tell you that “You
know you don’t really have to do _________ that way.” Where is the
encouragement? The camaraderie? The rejoicing with those who rejoice? Why all
this judgment and negativity?
Rachel Jankovic succinctly states, "Everywhere you go, people want to talk about your children. Why you
shouldn’t have had them, how you could have prevented them, and why they
would never do what you have done. They want to make sure you know that
you won’t be smiling anymore when they are teenagers. All this at the
grocery store, in line, while your children listen."
I understand the secular world
taking issue with my children. I understand that I come from a different place
in how I view the gift of my girls. I don’t
understand believers’ negativity, and I don’t understand believers’
discouragement towards other mothers. Yes, sometimes your experiences can help
another mother. Sometimes you need to share the ugly details. Life isn’t all picnics
and dessert. But I can see very few situations where it is okay to throw out
your own “Just wait until…” that detracts from a new mother’s delight in her
children. Celebrate with her, rejoice with her. Encourage her. Very possibly
yours might be the only outside source of encouragement she receives all day.
This author, in an article well-worth the read, summarizes my thoughts
marvelously—much more succinctly and prettily than I could possibly. She
includes quotes from several other women—my favourite being from Rachel Jankovic: “Christian mothers carry their children in hostile territory. When
you are in public with them, you are standing with, and defending, the objects
of cultural dislike. You are publicly testifying that you value what God
values, and that you refuse to value what the world values. You stand with the
defenseless and in front of the needy. You represent everything that our
culture hates, because you represent laying down your life for another—and
laying down your life for another represents the gospel.”
