Kate Wicker

Storyteller & Speaker

Wistful Moms

A blast for that past…a post from the 2008 archives.

Last week two blogging friends (thank you, Cathy and Sarah) of mine sent me their thoughts on the seasons of motherhood and aptly quoted Ecclesiastes. Some might argue this was only coincidence. But to me this was God’s way of making me listen to him. See, I can be a bit dense and I don’t always “get” what he’s trying to tell me, so sometimes he has to use some in-your-face techniques.

The day before I’d been feeling down. I confessed to my husband that for the first time in my mothering life I’d been feeling wistful. “I’ve just found myself really missing being able to sleep more and having more time to pray and write and do other things. Being a mom is just so consuming,” I told him.

“I think what you’re feeling is probably completely normal,” he reassured me.

My husband is usually right, but I wasn’t completely convinced. Then I read this post from Cathy – a veteran mom who knows a thing or two that I don’t and I realized she was a bit wistful, too, but for different reasons. She’s not pining for sleep right now or sick and tired of wearing bulky nursing bras. No, all her children are out of diapers. In fact, she’s preparing to see not one, but two daughters get married this summer. Her babies are officially leaving the nest while mine haven’t even sprouted the beginnings of any wings yet.

Okay, so my smarty-pants husband was right again. It seems a certain level of nostalgia and wistfulness is normal for all moms – no matter what “season” of motherhood we’re in. And, provided it never becomes a source of discontentment or regret, being a wee bit wistful is okay – and, yes, normal.

Fortunately, even in my most difficult mothering moments, I’ve never felt anything close to regret. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve certainly felt pangs of regret for my failings as a mom and a human, but not ever, ever for becoming a mom in the first place. Sure, I’ve sometimes found myself wishing I could get through writing one essay without 15 interruptions. There are nights when I have to summon up all my strength to get out of bed to give a thirsty child a sip of water. There are days that begin at a time that I still considered part of the night in my pre-mom days. But these small sacrifices come with the territory of being a mom of young children and for more seasoned moms, I can bet these are some of the very things they’re probably missing.

There is a time for diaper changes, potty training, patty-caking and night-waking. It’s that time for me – my time to plant, my time to build, my time to embrace.

But one day it will be my time to uproot the plant I spent so many years nurturing, a time to rend the umbilical cord once and for all, my time to be silent and to write all I want and then find myself yearning for all of those interruptions, those, “Mommy, I need yous,” and the ever-present background noise of my children’s voices. There will come a time for me to be far from the embrace of my babies who will no longer be babies anymore at all. 
Isn’t that the great mystery of motherhood – how the days can seem so long but the years fly by?

Honestly, I’m not so sure I even really know what it means to be truly wistful. What I sometimes miss these days are things I can someday have back – like sleep, marathon sweat sessions at the gym (I’m a weirdo who misses physically torturing myself). They’re even things I sometimes can still get a hold of now.  This past Sunday, for example, I was able to take an afternoon doze and actually fall asleep for an hour. 
But nursing a baby when the rest of the house is quiet, watching Madeline’s excitement when she has accomplished some small feat like putting her clothes on all by herself (“I did it, Mommy! I did it!”), or having the power to stop all tears with only my touch or the soft brush of my lips on a boo-boo – those aren’t things I can completely go back to, not even if I’m blessed with grandchildren. 
So I’ll sleep and write when I can, but when I can’t, I’ll know I’m doing something far more important. This is my time to keep my babies, the very things that do not keep for very long at all.

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant.
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to tear down, and a time to build.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them; a time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces.
A time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away.
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to be silent, and a time to speak.
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
(Ecclesiastes 3:2-8)

Comments

  1. This.
    is.
    beautiful.

    Dare I say one of your best posts?

    Ever?

    Anyway, I guess you get the idea that I like it. Great post.

    Thank you. It’s just what I needed this afternoon.

  2. Sarah, it was you, my friend, who provided the genesis for this post. Go kiss those babies of yours. God bless!

  3. Oh, I love this one very much. I keep reminding myself that when Elias wants a million butterfly kisses, to give each one of them with thanksgiving…because it won't be long before those kisses will lose all coolness. Sometimes it's so hard to stop and enjoy, especially when being a mother of multiples is such a juggling act. You're an inspiration! Give those sweet girls butterfly kisses from us!

  4. Oh man, this one made me tear up. I always think with my 16 month old, these are the days I'm going to miss… Him cuddling next to me pointing at me and exclaiming 'nurse', which sounds more like nurth in his baby voice.. Even though sometimes I don't really want to be nursing at the moment I will miss it when he's long past nursing.
    Thanks for this post and reminding me to savor the moment.

  6. Imagine my surprise at seeing a reference to my "old" writing here…those were the days, huh? Now, only a little more than two years later, both my girls are mothers each expecting their SECOND children! In no time I will have four grandchildren. In no time I will have GREAT grandchildren! Life is flying by, isn't it? Let's enjoy every moment.

  7. Cathy, I thought about that. How since I've written this post, I've moved, given birth to another child, heard about the joys of grandmothering from you, got a dog… Life is indeed flying by, and I'm trying to not be so busy that I miss enjoying the passing of time.

    Blessings!

  8. My mom, in her great wisdom, said something to me when I was feeling wistful about not having a baby anymore. She said that even at her age, with 10 grandchildren she STILL feels wistful about not having a baby. She told me that she thinks, if you embrace your vocation as a mother, that in eevry different season you will feel wistful for a mothering season that has passed. It's God's way of reminding us of the beauty of ALL our mothering seasons. I loved that! She also added that when you're way past the time and ability to have more babies, God, in His great bounty, gives you grandchildren to hold in your arms.

“She could never be a saint, but she thought she could be a martyr if they killed her quick.”

―Flannery O'Connor