As many of you know, my younger sister has a diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type. I’ve featured Tiffany five times on this blog, and recently invited her to be a regular contributor. At this point, our plan is to have her write a guest post once a month, although there may be occasional months we skip. In her guest posts, Tiffany will document a single day in her life. For the most part, Tiffany has been stable for the past 4 1/2 years thanks to medications and hearty support from our parents, a psychiatrist, psychologist, and other professionals. My hope is that these posts will raise awareness of what it’s like to live with a mental illness. But I’m also hoping these posts will help readers recognize that we all have hopes, dreams, challenges and mountains to climb regardless of our mental health status. Without further ado, I’m pleased to introduce you to my sister, Tiffany. 

When you have mental health issues, every special occasion has one thing in common. WARNING!

I just had my 35th birthday. This year, I wanted to reclaim my identity, my unique fingerprint that makes me an individual. If there is a day any of us should be happy, it’s our birthday. This year, I did not want to be happy all day. I wanted to be purely me.

The prelude to my birthday became a combination of emergencies and celebrations.

The night before my birthday, my kids were getting sick. I rushed my one-year-old, Xander, to urgent care. The doctor diagnosed him with a lung disease called RSV. The doctor said it could be months before the problem cleared itself. My four-year-old daughter, Raegan, was complaining about her ear, but refused to go to the hospital. The morning of my birthday, blood and puss were coming out of her ear. We went into the ER and found out she had a broken eardrum. A significant sized hole was in her ear. They recommended that we come back in ten days for an ENT visit. We followed the recommendations and the hole has healed.

The day of my birthday, I was preoccupied with problem after problem, but felt calm overall.

I watched Facebook pretty closely. I wanted to see who stopped in to say hi. I started to overthink the birthday wishes that were coming in, as I do in a number of situations. Do I push “like” now or later? Do I comment? So in the morning, I started to comment on the birthday wishes. All of the sudden, my phone went dark. A couple hours later, I gave the phone to Raegan and she figured out the malfunction. Then I was able to read and appropriately respond to the Facebook messages again.

The day must go on and hopefully get better! After all, it’s my birthday.

Mid-afternoon, I went to a sports bar with my dad. One of my favorite activities has always been going on “dates” with my dad, so the day was definitely getting better. We communicated our views on life as we often do when we go out together. I started drinking Red Bulls and proceeded to do so the rest of the day, which led to an all-night Red Bull high.

Finally the main event, with my parents babysitting my sick kiddos. I went to a traveling art pub event. The events feature different artists who guide you through making a masterpiece. I arrived early and picked a great seat up front. I had extra room to paint since nobody sat next to me. I painted and painted, and felt as though I was painting out emotions from the day. My painting was used as an example for the class about halfway through. The finished product hangs in a prominent place in my apartment, the bathroom. What a way to end a hectic day. I felt good about getting care for my kids and accomplishing something great at the same time.

The day didn’t go as planned, but I adjusted to the various circumstances that were thrown my way. My birthday felt complete with the cards I received, one from my sister and one from Raegan. My sister’s card said “You’re original, unique, and loved for everything that makes you, you.” Raegan made her card with the mental health professionals that work with her at school and at home. It said “I love mom because she gives good hugs, takes me to dance and piano, and cooks good food.”

This is a glimpse of a day in my life. I’ll be highlighting other days in the future. Thanks for reading!

Tiffany

It’s as if her 9-year-old eyes suddenly opened wide to the world of women, to the world of other mothers this week.

“Why don’t you dress sporty, like her?”

“Why don’t you like iced coffee, like her?”

“Are you a crafty mom? I want you to have a bead room like that. I bet if you were a crafty mom I’d want to do a project every day. I’d want to make a bracelet with beads every single day.”

I explained why I only dress sporty when I work out and not every day like she wishes I would.

I explained why I don’t like iced coffee, why I don’t like any kind of coffee at all.

I explained that I’m not much of a crafty mom, why I probably won’t ever have a bead room.

It’s all really a matter of fact. But my explanations seemed to fall short.

I wondered if I’d let my daughter down a little when I explained why I’m not any of those things.

That 9-year-old of mine – she wanted me to be more of a sporty mom, she wanted me to be more of a hip iced coffee drinking mom, she wanted to know if I’d ever identify myself as a crafty mom. And I told her no. On all three accounts.

I let myself go down that ugly, ugly road of lies for just a moment. You know the lies…maybe I’m not the kind of mom she wants, maybe I’m not the kind of mom she needs, maybe I’m not the kind of mom she secretly wishes she had. Ugh. Ugly lies. Ugly, ugly lies.

Perhaps my matter-of-fact 11 1/2-year-old son got it right when he responded bluntly to my daughter with this…

“She’s not a crafty mom, SHE HAS A BLOG!!”

Yep. He got it right, didn’t he?

I’m not a sporty mom, I’m not a hip iced coffee drinking mom, and I’m not a crafty mom. But I am a bloggy mom.

These conversations got me thinking about something I’ve thought of many times before. One of my greatest dreams as a mother is for my adult children to look up to me and think of me as beautiful, classy, wise, faithful, patient, loving, and kind. I want them to come to me for advice. I want them to know I’m an open book, here for them anytime. I want them to look at me and see what strength paired with humility looks like. I want them to see a servant heart in me, and I want them to think that’s so, so cool. I want my children to see me living out my dreams, living out my calling, and I want them to be empowered to do the same. And when it comes to my daughters, especially, I pray they’re honored and proud to call me mom.

So I quietly beg God, plea with God, ask Him to pour His grace and favor on me in regards to these matters of the heart. Help that 11-year-old heart, 9-year-old heart, and 2-year-old heart grow to see me for WHO I AM rather than who I’m not. And help me be the mom I want to be for my children, because it’s not always as easy as it seems.

Before we wrap up that conversation about me not being a crafty mom, I encourage her 9-year-old heart. “You know, when you’re a mom, in fact, maybe even when you’re just a little older, like in high school or something, you can be crafty if you want. That would be awesome. You can pick whatever craft you’d love to do and you can get really good at it. I think that would be great for you because I know you’re really creative and you like to do creative things.”

“Ya,” she says. “Ya.”

To mamas known and mamas unknown. This post is for you.

I’ve wanted to write this for a while, for mamas undecided, for mamas who aren’t quite sure whether they’re done having kids or not.

So mamas? Let’s chat about this question that’s pressing on your heart…

How will I know when I’m done having kids?

But before we get started, I want to take time to acknowledge special groups of mamas out there because this post may or may not be for you.

For mamas who have grieved the loss of an infant or child, I hear your cries, I feel your pain, your longing to see, touch your baby just one more day. This post may or may not be for you.

For mamas who are experiencing infertility, who have tried for months, years to conceive? I pray you will be blessed with child. This post may not be for you.

For mamas who have been called to adopt, and are in the seemingly never-ending waiting process, bless your soul. You inspire me. This post may not be for you.

For mamas who are unable to bear children of your own, can’t afford adoption or infertility treatments, or are “too old” to be considered a candidate for such things, but long for a child to love? My heart goes out to you. I pray that God will work a miracle, I pray He’ll place children in your life through other means, and that those children will bring you great joy and fulfillment. This post may or may not be for you. 

For mamas who whole-heartedly embrace natural family planning, for those who hope to bear as many children as the Lord will provide until He carries you gently into menopause? You are amazing and an inspiration as well. This post may not be for you.

For mamas who became pregnant due to rape, incest, sexual abuse, prostitution or trafficking, and you’ve made the incredible decision to birth, raise or place this child for adoption? May peace and blessings be poured out on your life. May you find the freedom and healing you need. Press on mama. You are incredibly brave. This post may not be for you.

For mamas of children who have special needs, who have to weigh and measure your decision to have more children NOT based on your heart of hearts, but on your reality of caring for your child with special needs? You are precious, a rare gem. Follow your heart, trust your instincts, take your time, and engage God, medical professionals, therapists, and those closest to you about your decision to have more children or not. Whatever decision you make, it will be the right one for you and your family. This post may or may not be for you.

For mamas who have a history of abortion, who want to heal, overcome, create, birth and raise a little life someday, but aren’t ready, aren’t sure, aren’t feeling worthy of the call to be mama? This post may not be for you.

For mamas in other special circumstances – pregnant in your teens, pregnant in your forties, pregnant after years of infertility treatments, living in extreme poverty, living with mental illness or a significant medical condition, living amidst chronic trauma? This post may or may not be for you.

For all you mamas who KNOW you’re NOT done having kids, awesome. This post may not be for you (yet).

So who is this post for?

This post is for any mama who’s debating…

How will I know when I’m done having kids?

Let me tell you a quick story. Our two oldest children are 11 and 9 years old. Our “baby” is 2 years old. So there’s nearly seven years between our second and third child. During those years in-between baby two and three, there were a couple things that made us question whether we should have more children. I sought answers, I sought wise counsel, and I wasn’t sure how to answer when people asked if we were done having kids. The truth was, I didn’t have confidence I was “done,” and my husband was willing to consider having another. So while the questions still lingered, our biological clocks were ticking. Finally, we committed to pray hard about it for one week. We felt led to try for a third child and became pregnant within months. Our third child has been a significant blessing for our entire family, and I wouldn’t trade her for the world. But now I’m 100% confident that we’re done having kids.

So I thought I’d share with you today what that looks like, what that feels like…to know, to be confident that you’re DONE having kids.

Here are 11 signs you MIGHT be done having kids…

1) You just KNOW you’re done having kids. Yes, you just know. This is hard to describe, but is the best all-around indicator that you’re done. It’s a feeling of complete clarity.

2) When another mama announces she’s pregnant, you’re happy for her, but her announcement doesn’t compel you to have another child yourself. In other words, other mamas’ pregnancies don’t stir in you a desire to become pregnant anymore.

3) When your “baby” is still your baby, and other “babies” her same age are becoming big brothers and sisters? And it hasn’t even crossed your mind to give your “baby” a baby brother or sister? And you don’t have any plans to give your “baby” a baby brother or sister any time in the future? Ya, you might be done having kids.

3) Maybe you’re the kind of mama who loved being pregnant. You still admire pregnant mamas’ beautiful, round bellies and glowing skin, and maybe you’d even choose to be pregnant again (just the pregnancy part). But you can’t quite picture yourself doing that newborn stage all over again, and you can’t picture yourself doing another round of middle of the night feedings, and you can’t picture yourself going through any of that all over again.

4) You remember labor and delivery all too well. You haven’t forgotten. In fact, you remember that last labor and delivery quite vividly. You promised yourself you’d never do this again! And you’re still confident. You won’t ever do that again. 🙂

5) When other mamas give birth and bring that little babe home, you’re glad to greet, hold and help with the baby, but not so quick to want to step in their shoes.

6) When it’s time to start putting away the baby stuff, you realize it’s actually time to get rid of it. And for the most part, you have no problem selling it, donating it, or giving it to someone. In fact, when any of your kids grow out of anything, you want to get rid of it right away, because you’re just ready to move beyond this baby, toddler, little kiddo clutter.

7) You’re willing to consider longer-term and/or permanent options for birth control. (Yes, I know this is a private, sensitive and potentially controversial subject, but I’ve seen many age/stage peers discuss this openly within a trusted group of friends when they know they’re done having kids. So I’m confident this is a significant sign.)

8) Your own dreams as a woman start moving to the forefront again. You look at where you’ve been, you look ahead at what’s to come, and the years flash before you. Time is ticking in a different way than before you had children. Life is only so long. So as much as you adore your children, you also know you need space to pursue the desires of your heart, space to make your way again.

9) You’re suddenly open to expanding your definition of “motherhood” to include children you engage with at work, in the neighborhood, at church, at family gatherings, and anywhere else you can get your hands on kids to fulfill those motherly instincts and desires you have. You don’t have to be everyone’s mother to be satisfied; being a motherly figure is just fine with you now.

10) You start daydreaming, just a little bit, of becoming a grandmother. And it sounds awesome, even better than motherhood. You know this isn’t the end. More than likely, you’ll have an opportunity to grand-mother your own grandkids or someone else’s grandkids down the road.

11) On good days, you feel perfectly in control of the children you have. Everything’s dandy. On bad days, you feel like you’re barely maintaining control of the children you have. And in the midst of very bad moments, you feel like you’re hanging on by a shoestring; you could truly use a little help. In your heart of hearts, you know that if you had one more child, you wouldn’t be able to care for your children the way you want to. Just the thought of that makes you very, very sad. Reality sets in. THIS. is the number of kids I’m supposed to have. You love your kids. You want to care and nurture your children to the best of your ability. And you want the best for your kids. You also know how much work it is to raise human beings, how much effort it takes to be a mother on call 24/7. So you know, this decision is for the best. It’s time to be done having kids. Because you want to love the children you’ve been blessed with oh so much.

So mamas, I’m not a psychologist, a doctor, or a child development researcher. And I’m certainly not God. But I am a mama. So mama to mama, heart to heart, I ask you to consider the points above and make your way accordingly. If you’re torn and confused, pray about it. The answer will become much more clear.

This isn’t so much a science as it is a matter of the heart.

Be gentle with yourself, mama. God has a plan for you and your family.

 

 

 

SPECIAL NOTES ABOUT THIS POST:

I’m aware of the sensitive nature of this post. I could have easily written this post with a snarky, comedic tone. But that is not my nature. Rather, I have been careful to approach this subject with due diligence and honor, knowing there are many different views on child bearing.

I am also fully aware that I neglected to address fathers’ influence and involvement in this post. Obviously, fathers are critical to this discussion. My decision to keep fathers out of this post (for the most part) does not in ANY WAY downplay their significance in parenting or decision making. My desire was for this post to be written for a mama’s heart. Dads, if you would like to hear a dad’s opinion on this matter, perhaps I can talk my husband into writing a similar post from a male perspective?!

The 11 points I listed in this post do not represent every woman’s experience. But I wanted to put something out in the blogosphere for the woman who’s seeking answers to this age old question. How will I know I’m done having kids? I hope and pray this post lands on the screen of the souls who need it most. 

If this post finds you in the midst of questioning, feel free to email me at amybpederson@hotmail.com and I’m happy to chat it through with you in a more “intimate” setting. I’m honored to say I’ve walked one mama through this questioning, and she and her husband ultimately decided to have a fourth child, a decision they have clearly delighted in to this day.

We had one cold, windy and dreary day on Monday. According to the weather forecasters, it was the coldest day we’ve seen in Minnesota on July 14th since 1884.

We were all cold. And quite honestly, we didn’t have much to do. Yep, the good ‘ol mid-summer phrase “I’m bored” came out for the first time that afternoon.

So what’s a mom to do when she has three kids who are acting bored out of their minds, it’s the coldest it’s been in 130 years, no friends are around, and another DVD just won’t cut it for mom or anyone else?

Think of a wholesome, very boring activity, and do it.

Boring, you say? Yep. Boring. Boring to them. Incredibly brilliant to you. Because mom? You know “boring” activities aren’t really boring. The kids just don’t know it yet.

So break out all the boring things from here on out. Like that boring, old fashioned activity where you all get down on the ground and draw with some sidewalk chalk. Color hearts until they shine like the sun, then let the toddler doodle right over them because it doesn’t matter anyway. Draw flowers in pots with blue skies, write your name in bubble letters layered with red, green and blue. Let her bring her furry blanket outside on the driveway and tuck away under it like a turtle for as long as she wants. And don’t even make a big deal of it when the pre-teen shows up. Because he’s too cool for sidewalk chalk. If you stay still, if you don’t say a word, he’ll join in for a little fun too. And let them get dirty, because there’s no reason they need to be clean at the end of this boring old day anyway.

And mom? Make sure you soak this moment in. Because this is boring. Truly boring stuff. It’s mid-summer. And life is boring. As boring as it’ll ever get.

Mama was washing breakfast dishes. Tiny princess came down the stairs with a Princess Tiana dress in hand. She’d pulled it down, off the hanger in her closet.

“Put it on mom. Put it on!” said tiny princess.

So mama put the dress on her tiny, tiny princess.

White silk fell off her shoulders. It was too big.

White silk dragged on the ground. It was too long.

Mama had an idea. A shiny green paperclip would do. So she tugged that white silk up at the shoulders, gathered it all together in the back, and pushed it right through that shiny green paperclip.

Tiny, tiny princess was ready to play.

“My pretty princess, mom! My pretty princess!” she exclaimed as she ran around the room, white silk trailing behind.

Tiny princess wanted big brother to see her pretty princess dress. So she grabbed ahold of that white silk,  lifted it up, and began down the stairs to the basement. One step, by one step, by one step and another, tiny princess walked down the stairs to find brother, big brother.

“My pretty princess, brother! My pretty princess!” she exclaimed as she ran around the room, white silk trailing behind.

“Wow, so pretty!” said big brother. “You’re so pretty.”

Then tiny princess grabbed ahold of that white silk, lifted it up, and began back up the stairs to find mama. One step, by one step, by one step and another, tiny princess walked up the stairs to find mama.

“My go outside!” said tiny princess as she headed for the door.

So mama turned the lock and opened the door for tiny, tiny princess. Tiny princess ran to the deck rails and looked through to a field of possibility. Birds chirped, frogs croaked, swans swam, and grasses blew in the breeze.

What was next for tiny princess? What in the world would she do?

Just then, tiny princess saw a red net across the deck. She ran as fast as she could. “My catch frogs!” she said. “My catch frogs!” Tiny princess was brave, tiny princess was bold. She was determined to catch frogs so she grabbed ahold of her white silk pretty princess dress and began down the deck stairs in search of some tiny, tiny frogs.

Just then, mama said “Wait! Wait! I’m still wearing my pajamas. Come! We’ll catch frogs after I’m ready.”

So mama picked up her tiny, tiny princess and carried her all the way upstairs.

Tiny princess got up on mama’s great big bed and waited patiently, soaking in the brave, beautiful and kind princess things Princess Sofia does in the kingdom of Enchancia.

Mama got ready for the day. She pulled her long hair into a ponytail, brushed her teeth until they were sparkly white, and put on her green dress with a ruffle on the top. Mama was ready to go anywhere, ready to do anything with miss tiny, tiny princess.

But before she did anything, mama stopped. She looked at her tiny princess on that great big bed and knew it wasn’t time to go frog hunting, not yet anyway. So mama took a deep breath, stood still in the door frame, and soaked in the moment.

Mama saw the beauty, the treasure, the rare gem that was her tiny, tiny princess. There she was – more beautiful than gold, more precious than silver – one shoulder bare, the other adorned with a flower.

Tiny princess. Beautiful. Precious. Set apart for more than mama could imagine.

Mama bottled the moment in her memory, saved it up for all the years she’d walk alongside her tiny, then not-so-tiny princess. For she loved her daughter so.

In the stillness of the moment, mama pondered the love of her Daddy, her Father who calls her beautiful, precious, set apart for more than she could ever imagine.

And she knew what He’d say…

That’s the way I love you, that’s the way I see you.

Beautiful, tiny princess.

Beautiful.

A tear dropped from mama’s eye.

Mama walked slowly to the bed so as to not disturb the peace that was. She brushed tiny princess’ hair out of her eyes and told her quietly it was time to go.

Mama lifted tiny princess off the bed, took her tiny, tiny hand, and together, they walked all the way down the stairs.

Mama knew it was the perfect time to go frog hunting, so she turned the lock and opened the door for tiny princess. Tiny princess ran to the deck rails and looked through to the field of possibility. Birds chirped, frogs croaked, swans swam, and grasses blew in the breeze – the same way they did earlier that morning.

What was next for mama and her tiny princess? What in the world would they do?

Catch frogs, mama thought, watch grasses blow in the breeze, swans grace water with wings, and birds fly free in song. So off they went. Tiny princess grabbed ahold of her white silk pretty princess dress and began down the deck stairs in search of those tiny, tiny frogs. And mama came alongside, red net in one hand, tiny princess’ hand in the other.

Together, they were brave. Together, they were bold. Together, they were beautiful, tiny princesses.