Today, I’m pleased to introduce you to Cindy who’s sharing her unique journey through motherhood as part of our month-long guest post series, Special Mamas. Cindy and and her husband have three biological children and three adopted children. Their three adopted children originally joined the family as foster children, and their youngest biological child has Down syndrome. I love the way Cindy rolls with the punches. I love the way Cindy finds humor and beauty in the daily grind. I love the way Cindy tells her mothering journey in the context of real, everyday life. I don’t know Cindy personally, but I can say without a doubt that she is an amazing woman who deserves every bit of blessing this Mother’s Day has to offer. Enjoy, friends! This is one beautiful family.

About a month ago, I was asked to tell my story as a mom, a mom of six, an adoptive mom, a foster mom, a mom of a special needs child, a mom of a college student. I began to write, and write, and write, but the words didn’t seem to flow. So I took a break and just lived my life.

I spent a much needed breather from our brood, ages 19, 17, 14, 11, 8, and 6, with my husband. Well, from all of them except our number two child. Emily had a rowing competition in Southern California with her high school crew, so we decided to book a hotel and make it a couple’s weekend. Oh boy, did we enjoy our time alone, as well as the time with our soon-to-be high school graduate. As we watched her instruct her crew as the coxswain (a small person that tells rowers what to do), I thought about our time together.

Her brother was but ten months old when we found out about Emily. Her birth and childhood were relatively effortless, which was a relief as her older brother made up for the both of them. Fairly easy going, she has always been a person who does not place very much importance on popular opinion. At 17 years of age, my oldest daughter continually amazes me. She has never been a source of drama. Well, there was that season at three years old where she would pass out any time she cried. That was fun to cope with. Fortunately, after a couple of years, she grew out of it. Currently, she is growing into a young lady who is smart, funny, quirky, sweet, thoughtful, and many other wonderful adjectives. Her sense of humor and maturity has definitely emerged due to the life she has experienced with her younger siblings who were, at this time, hundreds of miles away.

Throughout our hiatus, I would receive the occasional text across state lines from our third child. In his own way, Angel was making sure life was as it should be at home, while his siblings were testing their fate and pushing the boundaries. Some would perceive this as interstate tattling. I, myself, was actually encouraged. The Hubster and I rejoiced in the knowledge that Angel finally understood that the rules still apply when parents aren’t there, something that, back a couple of years, would have been the farthest from his mind.

A little over eight years ago, after being in “the system” for two years, Angel and his little sister, Allie, were placed in our home at the ages of 5 ½ and 2 ½, as foster children. The deadline had been reached and their parents had been found unfit.

It had taken the Hubster and me half that time to complete all the requirements to become foster parents. We were adamant that we would love the children and cry when they left. Because we were happy with our little foursome, adoption was far from our thoughts. Our family was picture perfect, having a boy that looked like him and a girl that looked like me. Why would we mess with that?

I remember the excitement and anticipation, though. Eric and Emily remember being pulled out of their class to introduce their new siblings. I remember sitting with my newest (foster) daughter on my lap while she played with the strings on my hooded sweatshirt, as well as my (foster) son’s continuous singing. I remember the joy, hope and love we had. I remember when we offered to be their forever family. I remember hugging their birth mom and telling her (and myself) that in God’s eyes, her sins were no greater than mine. I remember talking to the biological father on the phone and telling him, “As long as you are someone they can be proud of, you will be allowed into their lives.” Along with, “We want our children to be proud of what they are made of.” I remember dressing my girls in pink and my boys in blue for National Adoption Day, venturing into the courtroom crowded with exuberant onlookers, and sitting before the judge. I remember that judge declaring our children’s names attached to our last name, and the relief I felt. I had been holding back emotions I had no idea were there. I remember the throngs of people who paraded through our home to celebrate our “New and Improved” family. And I remember doing it all over again when we got their five day old brother, Joe, just three months later.

I remember the emotions my children had to work through, the fight to let go of the past and cling to their future. I remember the disappointment, pain, and anger they felt when they realized their birth parent went right back to the same old behaviors. I remember the tears I shed because their hearts were broken. I remember their resistance to our hugs to help them heal, the lack of trust, and the fight just to hear what they were thinking. I remember the threats to run away, the piggy banks that were pilfered, and the piles and piles of candy wrappers unearthed from hidden places. I remember the pain I felt each time my child was honest and told me they belonged with their birth parent. I remember telling them that they were right, that is where God wanted them to be, but their birth parents did not keep them safe, so God protected them. I remember tears streaming down cheeks as I told them that Dad and I could not make an Angel or an Allie, only their birth parents could. But God knew the choices that would be made so He chose to protect them. He knew Kevin and Cindy would love them unconditionally and allow them no harm. So He arranged for us all to become family.

The process of bonding seemed to take ages. For a few years, we were afraid we were losing Angel. It was not easy, at all, but it was good. Upon returning from our weekend, we realized Angel had been the “good kid,” the “responsible one,” the “one to depend on.” We had reached a parenting summit.

The week following our little getaway was pretty standard with bedtimes, school, homework, chores, and playing. (Oh yes, and some pretty creative consequences for those who were not so obedient in our absence.) That Friday, I dropped Emily off at school for her senior trip, and Eric went to spend the weekend working the kitchen at a Young Life camp.

We are so proud of the young man our oldest is becoming. At the beginning of his life, we weren’t sure if WE would make it through to his adulthood. Those memories were in the forefront of my mind after I received a phone call at 10:30 that night. The first words I heard were, “Now don’t freak out Mom, I am OK.” There aren’t many words that make this mom fearful. Here I was, sitting on the couch listening to my firstborn explain the rollover accident he was just in as the passenger in the front seat of a minivan. Driving down a two-lane highway, where one would typically keep their eyes open for the occasional deer crossing, the driver heading toward them fell asleep at the wheel. His pickup hit the van at my son’s door. Eric walked away with only sore muscles and little lacerations across his arms, torso and face. That in itself was amazing, but the real gift was how my son handled the situation as an adult. He did not need his Dad and Mom there. After being discharged from the emergency room 90 minutes away from home, he returned to the camp, slept, and finished his weekend working in the kitchen. That is the young man we are proud of. That is the young man we strove so hard to raise.

After a late night full of emotions, I woke up late Saturday morning. We had 75 minutes to get the kids up, dressed, fed, and to the local high school because our youngest, Jillian, was scheduled to compete in Special Olympics. (Did I mention her brother, number five child, had vomited in bed?) Jillie was born with Down syndrome. Her competitions included the Tennis Ball Throw and the 25-Meter Dash. Watching everything she was achieving brought tears to my eyes. I absolutely love who my youngest daughter is, and have loved her from the moment we knew we were pregnant.

When we found out we were due to bring child number six into the world, we were surprised. Going from two to five children in thirteen months is quite the endeavor. We were approaching one year of embracing our seven-member household when we confirmed the future family of eight. (The story of our pregnancy is an amazing blog post on its own.) After nine months, many doctors appointments, cheers from my best friend (who had a 16 year old blessed with an extra chromosome), and a hot Arizona summer, Jillian was born. From her very beginnings, our daughter set out to amaze the world. By the time she was five months old, Jillian was displaying early signs of communication. Though she didn’t walk until after her second birthday, it didn’t take long for her to stand up in the middle of the room and go for it. Verbal communication is difficult for people with Down syndrome, so we taught her ASL, American Sign Language. Through the use of Signing Time DVDs, she had over 300 signs by the time she was three. Before she was four, I discovered she knew her written letters as we were walking down the halls at school. I had no idea. Jillie continues to amaze us academically. Currently, at six years of age, she is reading fairly fluently, definitely at grade level.

With all of that said, it is not Jillian’s academic anomalies that make her so special to us. It is Jillie who is the cherry on top of the crazy sundae we call a family. It is Jillie with whom Angel felt safest. She allowed him to let his guard down so he could be vulnerable. Angel cherished, cared for, and LOVED Jillie. It was Jillie who provided the first ray of light through the enormously thick wall he had to build to protect his heart from a beginning no child deserves.

It is Jillie who is allowing Allie to learn compassion and responsibility that comes with being a big sister. It is Jillie who has given Joe an opportunity to apply the protective nature God has given him. It is Jillie who gets to display the traits of her oldest two siblings. She is particular and strong willed just like her brother, Eric. She gets her love for the written word from her big sis, Emily. It is Jillie who softened her Daddy’s heart that had, for a long time, been focused on correcting behaviors resulting from the previous devastation that came to some of our children before they were a part of our family. It is Jillie who I could look forward to snuggling when, with her siblings, it felt like I was hugging broken glass. It is Jillie who has tied our family together.

While sitting on my couch, I realized that in this past week, I had lived a lifetime. These eight days had not only provided a snapshot into my life as a mother, but they also illustrated what being a mom means to me. Motherhood is all about sacrifice, encouragement, and knowing when to let go. Being a mom means being able to see our children’s strengths and help them overcome their weaknesses. It takes grace, strength, forgiveness, resilience, and flexibility. My experience with motherhood is just how I like it, Never Easy, Always Good.

Cindy

“My Aunt is a PROFESSIONAL MOM.” Those words from my 23-year-old niece mean the world to me because I work hard at what I do. My career has spanned over 19 years with 24-hour, seven days a week, 52 weeks a year on-the-job training. This period of time has provided the experience with youth ages pre-birth to legal adulthood, specializing in bonding issues, chromosomal disorders, allergic reactions, illegal substance exposure, emotional challenges, as well as prolonged potty training and a myriad of other skills to pad my parenting resume. I had a limited amount of prior education including babysitting, Special Olympics volunteer, Early Childhood Education major, and preschool teacher. In May 2013, I was first asked to share my family story for a Mother’s Day blog series which gave me the penchant to begin blogging on my own. Join my family adventures on my blog “Never Easy – Always Good” at www.nevereasyalwaysgood.blogspot.com. While you’re at it, “like” my page on Facebook at www.facebook.com/nevereasyalwaysgood.

Family Photo Credits: Brooke Photography in Prescott, Arizona

Special Olympics Photo Credits: Bradshaw Mountain Special Olympics

This post is part of a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. The series runs all May and is in honor of moms who have unique journeys to and through motherhood. To read all 13 posts in the Special Mamas series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the introductory post. At the bottom of the post, you’ll find all guest posts listed and linked for easy reading!

Today, I’m pleased to introduce you to Melissa who’s kicking off our month-long Special Mamas series with a guest post about her unique journey through motherhood, including infertility, unexpected medical issues, depression, foster care and adoption. I so appreciate the way Melissa shares her story with authenticity and heart. It brought tears to my eyes when I added pictures and let it all sink in. I hope Melissa’s story moves you as much as it did me. Enjoy, friends.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

I had plans. As a 19-year-old newlywed, I planned for a big family and believed I had control over how and when that would happen. In my mind, we would have four kids in five years. I would deliver them all naturally and breastfeed for at least a year. I would love being a mama. It was just that simple.

I found myself seeking fertility treatment at age 21. My first pregnancy came with hypertension, frequent unexplained bleeding and weeks of bedrest. Our first daughter was born at 38 weeks; she was delivered by emergency C-section under general anesthesia, and was taken immediately to Children’s Hospital on a helicopter. She had a condition called Vasa Previa that caused her to bleed out when they broke my bag of waters. She spent weeks in the hospital and came home with a gastrostomy tube for feedings. NOT what I had planned. I had the “baby blues” for about three months, but seemed to recover quickly.

We tried two years for baby number two. A new infertility doctor told us they weren’t sure why, but without intervention we would not have more children. More drugs, more negative tests, a pregnancy that ended at six weeks in miscarriage. We sought a new infertility clinic only to find out at my initial visit that I was already pregnant again and HCG levels were looking great. We planned for an elective C-section. Our first son was born at 37 weeks, two full weeks before the scheduled date. We named him after the two doctors who helped bring his big sister into the world. Our precious little man had “wet lungs” from being early and born via C-section. After two days in the level two nursery of our little hospital, he was transferred to Children’s Hospital by helicopter. He spent six days in the NICU. NOT what I had planned, but this time I got to take home a healthy, nursing baby. The blues seemed to last a little longer this time, more like six months, but I had my old self back after that.

Fast forward not quite two years, and I’d told everyone who asked that two is the perfect number of kids as our son was “three hands full.” I really thought we were done. After all, it took medical intervention to get both of our kids. One day in September, I realized I was late, like five days late! Sure enough, I was pregnant. NOT what I had planned. It took only moments for me to love the baby growing inside me, even though I thought I had all I could handle. God knows what I need much better than I do. This pregnancy was the easiest by far. Our second daughter was born at 39 weeks on her scheduled C-section date, weighing a lucky 7 pounds 7 ounces. I left recovery after about 90 minutes and was handed a healthy baby who nursed like a champ from the first attempt. This was more like what I had planned.

What I didn’t plan was to struggle so hard as a mama. Our third child was 16 months old and I felt like a shadow in my own life. I could smile when other people were around, but didn’t really feel anything. I loved my kids, but didn’t want to get out of bed. I loved my husband, but didn’t want to be touched or talked to. I have always been a “doer.” I like to be busy, and suddenly I was sitting on the couch all day. I found myself thinking that if I got in the car and left, everyone would be better off. What was wrong with me? I had all I ever wanted, didn’t I? It was my little sister who told me she thought I might have depression. I made an appointment and talked, cried, took the tests and started medication to treat my clinical depression. NOT what I had planned at all.

Time moved on and I stabilized. I prayed daily to feel. I cried when I was happy, sad, or moved by a song. I laughed and meant it. I smiled and it was genuine. I was grateful for every day. Our family of five was awesome, and we began thinking about adding to the brood. I got pregnant very quickly and miscarried at six weeks. I started working for Just Between Friends a few weeks a year. I loved my job! I got pregnant again one year later, but found out at eight weeks that it was ectopic. It took six weeks to miscarry. The tears felt like they would never stop. There was a giant hole in my heart. My husband said he didn’t think we should try for any more, he didn’t want to see me hurt like that again. Still, I was grateful to feel.

I prayed for God to give me the desire I felt He put in my heart, the desire to fill my home with children. The answer I got is WAIT ON ME, TRUST ME. Remember those words from Jeremiah 29:11. I accepted a position as a teacher’s aide at a local preschool. I had 40 students to love on. The hole didn’t seem so big. I let go of all the baby stuff I’d been keeping, spent the “baby fund” on a pop-up camper and enjoyed the three gifts we’d been given to love. I started to understand that I can plan all I want, but my life is not my own. God is in control. So I stopped planning and started living. It seems that’s what God was waiting for.

We celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary, and I still prayed daily for God to take away the desire for more children or fill the hole in my heart. I was awed and amazed that He chose to give us two more to love. The Twinkies, as we call them, came to us most unexpectedly. My dear friend, Stacy, was fostering a set of boy/girl twins and was planning to adopt them should they need a permanent home. With three kids under four, it was clear it would be too much to take on two more. We had considered foster care in the past, and decided after meeting these sweet babies that we would give it a try. Within three months, our foster care license was in process and the Twinkies were placed in our home. More than a year has passed since we first met the Twinkies. We have been their parents for ten months now. We pray the adoption will be finalized before the end of 2015. Our house is loud, our van is full and my cup overflows.

I had planned for four kids in five years. God, in His infinite wisdom, gave us five kids in 15 years. I am overwhelmed with joy that my life has not gone as I had planned.

Melissa

This post is part of a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. The series runs all May and is in honor of moms who have unique journeys to and through motherhood. To read all 13 posts in the Special Mamas series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the introductory post. At the bottom of the post, you’ll find all guest posts listed and linked for easy reading!

I dreamed of making my writing public all the way back to 2003. But my writing remained private until I launched this blog in July 2012. If you were to peek at old journals and writings of mine between 2003 and 2012, you’d see lots of dreaming, lots of free writing, lots of brainstorming about a whole host of topics I believed would resonate with others.

Among those writings was this gem from March 11, 2007.

Special Moms

I found it nestled in a journal entry titled “Brainstorm of Topics for Books on Mothering.” Yes, back in 2007, one of the books I dreamed of writing was about special moms, moms who had unique journeys to and through motherhood. You see, between 2003 and 2010, I had a long-standing dream of becoming an author of real, relevant and raw books on mothering. That dream has since morphed. I no longer see myself as a “mom blogger,” but I’m not afraid to blog about motherhood. I no longer see myself as a “mom author,” but I’m pretty sure there’s still a book about motherhood in me.

I haven’t written a mothering book yet. Heck, I haven’t written ANY book yet. But the heart of that Special Moms vision is alive and well.

In 2013, I made the Special Moms dream come alive with a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. In 2014, I intended to run the series again, but time got away from me, so I wrote Motherhood Unraveled instead. This year, I resurrected Special Mamas as the annual guest post series I originally intended it to be, and went ALL IN!

When I extended an open invitation for posts, I set a lofty goal of 12 mamas. To my great surprise and delight, 13 mamas indicated interest.

So here we are!

During the month of May, I’ll be hosting 13 Special Mamas on the blog.

13 Special Mamas will write guest posts.

13 Special Mamas will share their unique stories to and through motherhood.

13 Special Mamas will reveal their hopes and dreams for motherhood.

13 Special Mamas will get vulnerable.

13 Special Mamas will expose bits of themselves that are raw and real.

13 Special Mamas will talk about miscarriage, infertility, foster parenting, adoption, special needs, significant health issues, blended families, widowhood, divorce and custody, postpartum depression, single parenting, losing a mama at a young age, and parenting abroad, far away from family and friends.

13 Special Mamas will uncover beauty found in least expected places.

13 Special Mamas will proclaim the hope they’ve found, the love they’ve shared.

13 Special Mamas will share the newfound perspectives they’ve discovered along the way.

13 Special Mamas will impart wisdom.

13 Special Mamas will be brave.

Friends, you are going to LOVE these mamas. I’ve found great joy and admiration reading their stories, and I know you will, too.

Motherhood is beautiful. Motherhood is life-changing. Motherhood is important. And motherhood is a calling. But motherhood is real. Motherhood is hard. Motherhood tests us. Motherhood takes us on journeys we never imagined in our wildest dreams. And motherhood brings with it all kinds of special situations and circumstances. When we whole-heartedly embrace our unique journey to and through motherhood, beauty emerges, hope emerges. Motherhood produces fruit in us like nothing else can.

Let’s be real. Let’s be raw. Let’s be beautiful. Let’s learn. Together. Because the truth is, we’re all Special Mamas.

Tell God Your Plans by Melissa

My Life in a Week by Cindy

Could Every New Special Needs Mother Use a Little Lionel Richie? by Lita

Not by Blood, but Through Compassion by Amanda

What is in a Name? by Susan

The Hidden Special Mama by Jackie

Finding the Mama I Thought I Lost by Jessica

My Choice by Paula

Adventures in Uncertainty by Lissa

Motherhood is Not for Wimps by Emily

For His Glory and Our Gain by Gloria

Trusting in Life by Mariah

Broken But Still Fighting by Kathleen

This post serves as the landing page for Special Mamas 2015. ALL 13 guest posts in the series are listed and linked at the end of this post. I put the Special Mamas graphic in the right sidebar of my blog’s home page. Anytime you want to read a post from the series, go to the blog at amybethpederson.com, click on the Special Mamas graphic, and it will bring you to this post. We’ll be writing a little book here throughout the month! Come. Enjoy. Be filled with beauty, hope and truth about motherhood.

 

 

My mom worked full-time as a public school teacher from the second she earned her bachelor’s degree until the second she retired. Even now, in retirement, she still substitute teaches quite a bit.

Growing up, never once did I hear my mom complain about her job.

Never once did I hear my mom long for an alternate life where she didn’t have to work as much.

Never once did I hear my mom wish she could be a stay at home mom.

Never once did I hear my mom question her purpose in life.

She just did what she needed to do. She did what she loved. She made it all work. She worked full-time, cared for three children, tended the household, supported my dad who worked two jobs (full-time teaching and part-time car sales), made delicious homemade meals, kept beautiful flower pots, sewed and mended things as needed, hosted a garage sale every year, and so on.

Between mothering, teaching, cooking and tending house, my mom was in her glory. She seriously DID. IT. ALL. (Although note I didn’t give her any credit for awesome self-care practices along the way. Mom, you know we always want you to do more for yourself.)

Before I became a mother, I assumed I would follow in my mom’s footsteps. I assumed I’d be 100% ALL IN for the balanced lifestyle of full-time work and full-time motherhood.

Yeah, before becoming a mother, I knew so much about balancing work and motherhood, that for years, I silently criticized moms who had college degrees, but chose to stay home full-time with their kids and “do nothing with their lives.” To put it more bluntly, if a mom had a college degree and she wasn’t actively using it towards gainful paid employment, I thought she wasting her degree, wasting her life away. Yep. What a waste.

Man, do I need to EAT my silent, unspoken words now.

Please forgive me, moms.

Please forgive me, college-educated moms who aren’t employed full-time in the workplace.

Please forgive me for criticizing you when I had no clue.

Please forgive me for placing judgement on you when I had no experience.

Please forgive me for assuming such harsh things about your life and your decision-making capabilities.

Please forgive me for being so narrow minded that I couldn’t understand why a woman would have gotten a college degree in the first place if “all she was going to do” was stay home with her kids.

Yeah, I had no clue. 

By the time I returned from maternity leave after our first child was born, I knew this full-time working and full-time mothering gig wasn’t going to work for me. Nevertheless, I survived 1 1/2 years of full-time employment as a mom because the truth was, at that time, we couldn’t afford to have me stay home in any capacity.

Approximately 18 months into motherhood, my husband got enough of a raise that allowed me to stay home one day a week. I applied for a part-time leave, and by the time our son was 22 months old, I was working four days a week. Life felt much more comfortable.

Things shifted again when our second child came along.

And when our third child arrived nearly seven years after that, things shifted yet again.

There’s only one thing I know for sure after 12 1/2 years of mothering. I have NO. IDEA. HOW. TO BALANCE. WORK AND MOTHERHOOD.

It’s clear, okay?

I have no idea how to do this.

The proof is in the pudding.

As of 2015, I’ve DONE. IT. ALL. as far as work-motherhood balance.

I’ve worked 5 days a week. 4 days a week. 3 days a week. 2 days a week. 1 day a week. And now, in 2015, for the first time ever in my mothering career, I’m home full-time.

Yes, I’ve become the woman I silently criticized.

I have a bachelor’s degree. I have a master’s degree. And I’m staying home full-time.

Writing this truth makes me feel kind of icky. You know? The kind of icky like I had to eat all those ugly thoughts and words I kept to myself about college-educated stay-at-home moms all those years. Icky like I should be working today, bringing in some income for our family other than just sitting here typing away on a blog, hoping and praying for a writing career that will actually pay something someday. Icky like I have NO IDEA how to strike the magnificent work-motherhood balance that almost everyone else seems to have found?! Icky like this is NOT the balance my mom struck. Icky like this is NOT the balance my neighbor struck. Icky like this is not the balance my husband’s female corporate colleagues struck. Icky like this is NOT the balance I envisioned for myself.

We’re modern women, they say, pioneers of a whole new generation. We’ll make our own way. We’ll establish our own place at home and in the workplace. We’ll land somewhere comfortably between the old-fashioned housewife who was expected to stay home and abandon her own self-fulfillment and actualization, and the feminist who burned her bra, abandoned all traditional notions of motherhood, embraced equal opportunity employment and fought hard against the so-called glass ceiling. Yes, they say we modern women can “Do It All In Our Lifetime.”

But I have to ask. Have we found a comfortable resting place between old-fashioned housewivery and and feminism? I, for one, am sometimes still confused, lacking clarity as to my place. Clearly, I haven’t quite figured it out. Clearly, I’m a pioneer, often left wondering and wandering in the sea of questions, insecurities and uncertainties about how work and motherhood fit together.

I rationalize.

I’ll become a “better mom.” I’ll have all of this worked out when the kids are older, when they’re in high school and college. Maybe I’m just not good at figuring this all out when they’re still little.

I justify.

I know in my heart that this is a season, a very short time in life when I have the opportunity to be home full-time with the kids, that years from now I’ll be SO glad I had this opportunity. And I know with all my heart that this is TRUE. But right now, there’s still a part of me that feels like I’m wasting my college degree, like I’m wasting my potential at home…tending a house, caring for children full-time, wiping counters, wiping butts, writing for no pay, and doing all the most ordinary, mundane things of life like cleaning toilets and packing cold lunches.

Then, I accept the truth.

I’m a mom. I have a master’s degree. I worked for 14 1/2 years. Now I’m not working at all. My work life has been all over the board. And I don’t claim to have any balance.

It is what it is.

Okay?!

I don’t have any balance.

I have no clue how to achieve work-motherhood balance.

I don’t get it.

And that’s okay.

I don’t claim to have mastered anything about this parenting or mothering gig, so why would I expect myself to have mastered the elusive work-motherhood balance either?

As I stood quietly by the monkey bars at the park this past weekend, I accepted the fact that this is my life, my one true life. I have three kids. My husband has a corporate job. He’s magnificent at what he does. I’m blessed to have this once-in-a-lifetime, very short-term, seasonal opportunity to stay at home full-time while these kids are still young. Before I know it, they’ll be all grown up. I’ll long for these days, I’ll miss these days when the kids are still small, when they’re all still at home. So I will embrace this life, even if it feels a little mundane at times. I will embrace this life, even if I have to remind myself 500 times that my contribution to the human race is just as worthy inside the home as it is outside of the home. 

I looked down at my jeans and Sketchers against the playground wood chips, and let the reality wash over me. Yes, this is a far cry from my favorite White House Black Market work clothes that fill the closet. But this is my life. This is a good life, too.

The kids fight over swings. They twist swings. They taunt and tease one another. They don’t go up the slide the right way, and do all kinds of potentially dangerous things. The honest truth is, we’re all a bit edgy because daddy had a ridiculously busy week and was gone six out of seven days. And yeah, we’re going out for dinner because I can’t handle more meal preparation at this point.

But hey.

Life is good.

We’re going to walk home from this park.

We’re going to enjoy pizza buffet together when daddy gets home.

We’re going to do this again tomorrow.

And it will be good and grace-filled all over again.

The kids don’t have a clue about work-motherhood-fatherhood balance yet. Neither do I.

Perhaps my work-motherhood IMBALANCE will prove to be a blessing someday.

Perhaps someday my children will reflect on their upbringing and realize it’s okay to not have everything perfectly together all the time. Life isn’t always about mastering things and getting everything JUST RIGHT.

Perhaps someday my daughters will come to me when they’re confused about this working and mothering balance, and I’ll be able to tell them with all honesty…been there, done that, sweetheart. Here’s how I worked through it. Day by day. Year by year. Child by child. Follow your heart, sweet one. There’s never one best answer.

Perhaps someday when my husband’s ready to retire and I’m still working like a mad woman in all the unconventional ways, he’ll realize I meant what I said. I’m not saying I don’t want to work, I’m saying for right now, my work is at HOME.

Perhaps someday when the children are grown and we have grandchildren running in the yard, I’ll look back with peace, resting confident in the knowledge that my degrees were never, ever wasted. In that moment, all the pieces of my life put together will make perfect sense. And I’ll whisper to the mamas from the mountaintops, forget about the magical work-motherhood balance. Just forget about it mamas. You’re doing great right where you are.

 

March is flying by! Today is St. Patrick’s Day. Easter’s here in a few weeks, and Mother’s Day follows soon after that. Believe it or not, I’m already planning into May for the blog. Hence, a random Mother’s Day post in the middle of March!

Let me explain why I’m reaching out to y’all today.

In 2013, I hosted a month-long Mother’s Day series titled Special Mamas. The series featured guest posts from a variety of special moms, including a foster mom, a mom of seven, an adoptive mom, a mom of a child who has autism, and a mom of three from my blogging community. The series went fabulously and I intended to continue the series on an annual basis.

Time got away from me in 2014. I’d planned to move forward with a second annual Special Mamas series, but didn’t get moving on it early enough. I invited one mama to participate and she was excited to write a post, but because of legalities surrounding the adoption of her foster children, she decided it would be best to wait. Around that time, a bunch of posts on motherhood were swirling in my mind, so I decided to skip Special Mamas for 2014 and wrote a month-long series titled Motherhood Unraveled instead. It, too, went fabulously, but I always knew I’d return to Special Mamas in 2015.

So here we are! Mother’s Day is rapidly approaching. I run the Special Mamas guest post series all of May, which means it’s time to start lining up a group of special mamas who are willing to write about their journey to and/or through motherhood.

In 2013, I personally invited all the special mamas who guest posted.

This year, I’m extending an open invitation to anyone who’d like to participate!

Here are the basic requirements:

1) You like to write! And maybe you’re good at it too?!

2) You’re willing to share your mothering story publicly in a guest post on my blog, www.amybethpederson.com.

3) You’re willing to be vulnerable in telling your story, at least a little. These posts will have the greatest impact if you’re willing to share your journey, but also your thoughts and feelings about the journey. Perhaps you’ve had to be patient. Perhaps your faith has led you through. Perhaps you’ve had to tap into community to help along the way. Perhaps motherhood isn’t anything like you expected. I don’t know your story, but we want to hear it.

4) Your guest post will need to be between 500-1,200 words in length.

5) I’ll need a minimum of three photographs from you to include in the blog post, horizontal orientation strongly preferred. More photos are just fine. This blog is big on photos!

6) You have time to write and edit a guest post between now and May 17th. All posts will be published on this blog between May 1st and May 31st, 2015. All posts need to be submitted to me 10-14 days in advance of your assigned date of publication. When you sign up to guest post, I’ll ask whether you prefer to be published early, middle, or late May. I’ll assign a date based on the preference you indicated!

7) You don’t have to be a blogger to participate in this series, but bloggers are more than welcome! If you’re a blogger, I will NOT edit your post unless I catch spelling errors. If you’re NOT a blogger, I reserve the right to make some small edits to your post (only as necessary), with final review by you prior to publication.

And last, but not least, I want to clarify who I’m looking for as far as “Special Mamas.” You might be a good fit for this series if you are…

• A foster mama
• An adoptive mama
• A mama actively in the process of adopting
• A mama who’s desperately waiting to be chosen as an adoptive mama
• A foster mama who turned into an adoptive mama
• A mama who’s going through infertility
• A woman who REALLY WANTS TO BE A MAMA, but isn’t in that life stage yet for some reason
• A mama of a child who has special needs of any kind
• A mama of a child who has a mental illness
• A mama of multiples
• A mama with multiple children (6 or more children)
• A mama who has one child (by choice or for other reasons)
• A mama who’s going through a major life transition
• A teen mama or someone who gave birth as a teen
• A military mama
• A mama whose mother passed away at an early age
• A mama who never had a mother in her life at all
• A mama who was adopted as an infant or child
• A mama who’s single
• A woman who doesn’t ever plan to have children
• A mama who’s living in poverty
• A grandma who’s raising her grandchildren
• A grandma who’s actively helping raise her grandchildren
• A stepmom
• A mama who has a mental illness
• A mama who’s experienced more than one miscarriage
• A mama who’s experienced stillbirth
• A mama who’s lost a baby or child
• A mama whose child HAS experienced or IS experiencing a significant medical crisis

If you don’t see yourself listed above, but think your mothering story is similarly unique, please let me know! We’ll connect and definitely get you in the series if your journey seems to be a fit.

If everything I’ve listed above feels like a match, and you’d like to write a guest post for my “Special Mamas” guest post series in May 2015, please fill out the Survey Monkey form below. It’s just a few questions and shouldn’t take you more than a couple minutes. I wanted to offer you a way to share your contact information and brief summary of who you are without making it public quite yet.

CLICK HERE TO CONNECT TO THE SURVEY AND INDICATE INTEREST IN WRITING A GUEST POST FOR THE SPECIAL MAMAS SERIES 2015!

I’m looking for a total of 12 guest post submissions for May. If more than 12 mamas are interested, I may open it up to more!

Thanks everyone! I can’t wait to see who’s interested! I’ll try to keep an update here on the blog, and on Facebook as well so you know when I’ve reached 12, or if I’m still looking for submissions. Oh, and one more note! If you know a mom who might be interested in this, or are connected to a group of moms who might be a good fit, please share this post with them. Looking to get the word out on this one!