To the ones who feel unseen, unknown, and tired. The laundry folders, dishwashers, knower of all the things that make worlds go ‘round. Hear my words and know you are more, you are needed, you are incredible.
Motherhood is the most important fulfilling and yet unfulfilling, sacrificing job ever. The state of the world and the goodness of society is dependent on what we do in our home. It’s humbling to think about and also overwhelming. The literal world depends on good mothers.
I have 4 children and my oldest is 13 so I have a bit of perspective from where I sit now and yet I’m still in the thick of it. Let me tell you what I know to be true for so many of us.
Our day is filled with the unglamorous important duties that keep life moving in our famiies… Laundry, dishes, cooking, toilets… if you have boys, you’re literally cleaning the shit out of your house. If we don’t do these important and ever so mundane tasks, everything falls apart. But rarely are we thanked for removing the pee stains from the toilet seat or making sure the sheets are clean and beds are made. There’s an unspoken, and sometimes spoken loud and clear in some marriages , expectation of how we are to serve our family. (I’m sure there’s a different post that fathers can write that is equally true and important, I’m not the one to write that post though) Sometimes we go in to marriage and motherhood with eyes wide open knowing exactly what’s expected and what we intend to do. We accept it and with zeal and naivety, we give ourselves to it. Even still, what I’m about to say remains true.
In all of our care taking, cleaning and making worlds go ‘round, it’s so easy to get lost, to forget who we are and what brings us joy. Of course we love our children and cherish every moment with them, but WE ARE MORE THAN MOTHERS. WE ARE MORE THAN COOKS. WE ARE MORE THAN THE CLEANING CREW. WE ARE HUMAN BEINGS WITH BIG HEARTS, TALENTS, GIFTS, INTERESTS, CALLINGS! Those things didn’t exit our body’s with the after birth on the floor of labor and delivery for the hospital janitor to clean up and throw out. Those things are not just real still today but important for the success of our family and their future.
For me the sacrifice and unseen work came from my father, my mom baled so he did it all. My dad loved baseball. It was religion in our family. Still is. He played on a fast pitch softball team well into his 40’s. We spent so many nights each week on a baseball field and I remember believing that my dad was supposed to be in the MLB because he was the best ballplayer in Bakersfield California. I LOVED watching him at catcher or second base. I chose to play second base in softball because that’s what he did and I wanted to be just as good. I loved it when he was up to bat and I rooted for a dinger over the fence. I was his cheerleader and he was my hero. The love, adoration and respect for him as a human being with a talent was so good for me and my development as a child. He was more than the provider, gardener, cook and housekeeper. He was a bad ass ballplayer and the best I knew. He created memories for me while he was doing what he loved. He cultivated ambition and competition in me the has been important in life as an adult. He didn’t get lost in his household duties that I know he did without hesitation and with pride. He carried on as a human being with a love for a sport that brought life to him and I was so proud watching him do it.
I believe this is true for mothers as well. You need to thrive for them and for you. If you don’t, there’s a cost and it’s expensive. Depression, resentment, weight gain, marriage issues…… the list is long and the cost is high. Don’t do it. Don’t continue to lose yourself. Don’t deny yourself. You have to keep growing and thriving as a person for everyone’s sake. What is it for you? Is it a job you used to do well that you want to try again? Is it a hobby? Do you paint, take pictures, garden, teach…. What do you love? What makes you excited?
When I was 30 years old with toddlers and a day job, I remember saying out loud to my husband, “I don’t even know who I am or what I love! I don’t know what I do or what I’m good at!” I cried and cried and yelled and cried. And then, I picked up a camera. It was the beginning of something really good. Here I am now, with a 6 figure business that lets me be creative, travel and provide for my family. It got me through divorce, it brought be people I cherish and experiences that grew me.
We have to care for our hearts the same way we care for our family. We need to be healthy and happy as an individual so we can be good for the people we love. If you’re drowning in motherhood and its lost the romance it once had before the weight of reality, I see you and I understand. Go find yourself again. It’ll be good, I promise.
This is a family I adore. One the has been through my motherhood journey with me and cheered me on in my career. I’m so honored to be their photographer and their friend. Here’s a few of my favorites…
Out of the 7 babies that have entered my body, only 4 are here with me today. 2 miscarriages and 1 ectopic pregnancy took 3 of my babies to Heaven. I don’t know why miscarriages happen. It’s the first question I’ll ask God when I get to Heaven. I do have a lot of theories, I’ve collected them from all of the people who freely gave me there’s. I know they meant well but if I’m honest, most of them made me more confused and and sometimes angry. Does anyone really know why babies come and go from our bodies before we get to know and love them? I don’t think anyone truly has the answer and I wish we’d all stop trying to make up the answer in efforts to fix someone’s pain. You can’t fix that kind of pain with any explanation. It’s unexplainable, unbearable pain that absolutely has to be felt and lived and processed before it can be tucked away into our heart. We put the memory and ideas of that little person in a safe place, never to be forgotten but also not altering our joy or sanity in the present. Then, we go on with life.
It’s really a strange thing, to go on with life with out someone who was supposed to be with you. And yet they are with you. I have friends who have babies the same age as the ones I’ve lost. Each time I see those babies I’m reminded of my precious little ones. They are always in my thoughts, always with me. It hurts less today to think of them, but I do think of them often.
All of my losses were different. My first one was before I had any children. The loss was so significant. It was as if someone stole my baby. Someone took from me what was so precious and belonged only to me. It was a long loss. 7 days of “maybe I’m loosing this baby to I’m loosing this baby and finally, I’ve lost this baby.” Absolutely agonizing. The words, “not a viable pregnancy” only made me angry at my doctor. It felt like she took the life out of the living being in my body by referring to him as a pregnancy. In my heart, he was a person and he was gone and “a little sensitivity would be great, Doc. PS, you’re fired. I’m not a project in your lab, I’m a person. ” Yes, I said that to her. Unapologetically.
The second miscarriage happened after my second son and during an extremely difficult time in my marriage. I went through it alone. No one really knew I was pregnant and my husband was in a different world. I had to put my boots on and take one for the A-team. There were babies to raise and a marriage to save. “Get off the bathroom floor and go do work, Kelli.” That’s what I said to myself.
My last loss was an ectopic pregnancy. Baby was growing in my fallopian tube and about to rupture. It was my birthday and I didn’t even make it home from dinner with friends before I was doubled over in the parking lot with the worst pain I had felt since child birth. I took some tylenol and went to bed praying that what I knew was likely would not be my reality. I called my doctor the next morning and she ordered me in immediately. An ultra sound confirmed that my baby was not where she was supposed to be and at any moment could endanger my life. An OR was booked and in 1 hour I found my self in a hospital gown on an operating table about to remove a living baby from my body. I could not reconcile that with my heart. I knew the facts but my heart was broken over it. Just before the surgery started I asked for the doctors and nurses to clear the room, I had to get to God, He felt far away in that moment and there was no way I was going under with out knowing the creator of that baby in my body was near and not going to hate me for what I was about to do. But I couldn’t pray. I couldn’t think. I was nearly hysterical. I called my dear friend because I knew she could get to Him for me. That’s what friends do. We hear and see for each other when our sadness and fear overwhelms us. And she did just that. She was already in prayer and already had a word from God for me when I got her on the phone. The word that would put my heart at peace long enough to do this impossible thing I was forced to do. She cried with me. She cried so hard with me. Have you ever experienced that? Someone feeling your pain with you? It’s such a gift and so comforting in an uncomfortable moment. It’s love.
After that loss, I was a mess. Angry as hell and so confused. So much so that I hired a therapist to help me process. I highly recommend therapy to anyone processing through great loss and pain. We all need someone to steer us through losses like that because, let’s get real, grief can make you crazy. Like certifiable sometimes. No one should have to do life; mother children, run a business, and keep their world spinning while in that kind of mourning. We absolutely need help. We need truth. We need love. We need. Period.
What happened next is for another post but I can tell you that today, 4 years later, the grief has been grieved and my heart isn’t as sensitive anymore. I can smile when I think about my Heaven babies. When I go to the doctor and I fill out the stupid form that asks how many pregnancies and how many living children I have, I proudly tell them I have had 7 pregnancies and 4 beautiful children with me today. I imagine my Heaven babies growing up watching me and knowing me from a distance. One day we will all be together, I won’t be a stranger to them and they have not been orphans. It will all be made right.
My hope in sharing these stories is not for my own comfort but to extend that to another mommy who needs it. I hope that if you’re reading this with a sting in your heart and tears on your face you will know that you are not alone and you matter. Miscarriage isn’t something you should just get over and move on from. It deserves to be given time and attention. And, if you need to process through your own loss with someone who might relate to your story, I’m here, talk to me. I mean that with all my battle wounded heart.
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