Season of Darkness

The older Jace got, the farther away from my friends I became. I loved that little baby more and more each day. I loved exploring his baby dimples and rolls and hearing his unrestrained laughs. My feelings toward Jace were a glaring contrast with how I felt about most other things. Nothing was familiar.

I’d started at Baylor intending to start from scratch, in a sense. What could I do, who could I be in this new environment? I imagined that if I could just get my head above the smoke and take in some untainted air…just get some distance, I would figure things out.  The switch from college freshman on a mission to mother was fast for me. I didn’t have time to adjust, and really I don’t think I did adjust for a very long time. At the time, talking about it with close friends only helped a little. It wasn’t their fault. You don’t know until you know. And they didn’t know how it felt to be a mother- so consuming and awesome, and lonely. I didn’t feel left behind. I felt like I had been swept up in this rushing current with no idea where I was heading or who I‘d be when I got there.

A month after our Jace turned 3 and about 3 weeks before Aubrie turned one we met our Kherington. After Kher’s birth, I felt wrong.  I was weepy and hopeless. Being at home alone terrified me. I was in bad shape. I called Mike more than a few times tearfully asking him to please come home early. I just couldn’t do it! I tried my best to be a ‘happy’ mom to my littles. They were so beautiful. Such gifts. But I was so exhausted- emotionally, mentally. The self-control it took to be patient and act like the mommy they deserved was almost crippling. Inside my head I wanted to get in the car and drive, far, far away…and sleep. I had to keep it together though. I never wanted to cry in front of my babies. Never wanted them to feel emotionally responsible for me. That wasn’t their job. I kept myself as tightly wound as I could until Mike got home.

When I laid my head down at night, I would wish for sleep. I would pray for rest, for help. Would I ever be ok again? Who was I? I was going to fail my babies. What mother thinks about driving away from her home? Who was I?!  And then replay of my day would roll….I was too short tempered, I shouldn’t have disciplined Jace for __________. I was no fun, I should have taken them for a walk instead of keeping them inside all day. I was so lazy! How could I have let myself fall asleep during Thomas? Failure. Why did you raise your voice? His first memories are going to be of his mommy being upset with him. Oh God, I take it back. Are you even listening?!  I can’t do this!......

The worst part is that no one knew, because it perpetuated the loneliness. I hid it as best I could. The acting job I did in front of everyone else should have gotten me some sort of award, I’m telling you! In my mind I had to pretend. I thought everyone was just waiting to watch us fail. I couldn’t be the hole that sunk the ship. So I smiled. And I laughed. And behind closed doors I wept bitterly.

Hindsight is such interesting perspective. I can see now that I should have gone to my doctor. Mike and I have had many talks in the years since this Season of Darkness and we both wish we would have recognized it for what it was. Many of my friends have had babies since then and I’ve heard quite a few of them talk to me about having the same (but much less intense!) feelings as I did. Sometimes I wonder if my emotional state was exponentially worse because I didn’t have peers to talk about it with. I didn’t know that new moms felt overwhelmed. Everyone that I observed seemed fine. Happy. Reveling in their mommyhood, so I deduced that something must be wrong with me which led to me being mad at myself, which made me uber aware of my short-comings, which compounded my exhaustion as I laid up at night going over all the things I should have done better…..a cycle. One that knocked me off my feet.

I never doubt the Lord’s presence in my life. I couldn’t have climbed out of that pit alone. When I did, I was scarred and different. But I was out and I never wanted to go back there again.

Being able to determine the feelings that contribute to the cycle is key. Being able to discern exactly what I’m feeling and what may have caused it enables me to talk about it with Mike or Meghan (my person). Often times they don’t need to say much, I just need to be able to talk it out. Other times I need their strength, their affirmation, and their perception of me to combat the lies that float around my head. Another tool I’ve found useful is exercise. Really! Moving, running, lifting heavy things…it brightens my mood and reminds me I’ve got grit and perseverance.

As I was wrestling with the words in this post, I reached out to My Person for some direction and she reached into my heart and gave voice to the words I felt but didn’t know how to say, so:

“But then, even then, sometimes all those tools don’t work, and you know what, that’s okay too. Because seasons of darkness are what make our seasons of light so much more precious and beautiful.”

This time in our life had to have be as terrifying for Mike as it was for me- maybe more so because he couldn’t feel what I was feeling. All he knew was that I wasn’t ok. Fixing situations is his favorite thing. But he couldn’t figure this one out, and I know it was hard on him. Thankfully, Mike tried to make himself a safe place. He didn’t understand, but he listened to my irrational thoughts, held me for eons while I cried, soothed me when I woke up sobbing from nightmares, and he built me up. He just kept building me up, countering my perceived failures with all the successes he saw. He knew when I needed more than he could give me and watched the kids so that I could have time alone with my best friend and she poured into me as well. Eventually their words became mental road blocks and when I would head down that road again, I ran into their words; their healing, life-giving, loving words. 

Mandy

Backwards Thinking

I began my new role as a father with a very general idea of the type of father I wanted to be- loving, strong, caring, just, etc. General. Unspecific. The ideals that came to my mind were ones that I’d always thought of as traditional manly qualities.  Provider, protector, strong and honorable.  How was I supposed to simply start acting out those qualities? Just like that.  As an 18-year-old soon to be father, I guess I had all these characteristics I wanted to personify but no idea how to live them out. I knew I wanted to be the person that my kids desired to turn to and to be the rock my wife stood upon. I needed a plan. A course of action I could follow.

I’d seen men.  I’d seen men falter, and I’d seen men do good.  I had some examples of how to be ‘manly’, of course.  My father is a good man.  He provided for his family.  He tried to instill good qualities in me, and if I may say so myself, I think he did all right in that respect, too.  My childhood was ultimately a charmed affair.  I had three square meals a day, lived in a house without any problems, played soccer and baseball and any other sport I wanted.  The biggest advantage I had was that I had two parents that loved me throughout my entire life. 

I would say that the most important lesson I learned from my parents was that to be loved, I simply needed to be there.  Being perfect is not necessary.  It’s a lesson that has carried me through difficulties and one that I am going to make sure my kids learn.

 As I struggled to navigate this new road ahead of me, I thought about how too many kids today do not have a father around, and that was unacceptable to me. That was not a legacy I would leave for my child.  I loved Amanda and I didn’t know how everything was going to fit together. I was decided, however, that we would make it work.   

One of the least proud moments in my marriage happened after a particularly hard day.  I came home after work having been to school and work stocking shelves (8 hours that day), and I was exhausted.  I got home and Jace was still awake at 11:30 or so.  I was just done.  There was no way he should have been up that late, he was just a baby.  So I got ticked off at Amanda, and I let her know it.  The phrase that came out of my mouth at one point was, “I don’t want to come home from work just to work some more.  I want to be able to come home and relax.” I didn’t even stop to think that if Jace was still up then she must have had a hard day too. She looked at me and I didn’t see that the way she looked closely mirrored my own haggard state of mind. She said, “Sorry for ya, buddy, but you’re a father 24-7. You don’t get an off day from this.” Yeah…I’ll take a tall, cold glass of reality served up blunt. Thanks.

Looking back now, it’s amazing to me that I could actually utter those two short sentences.  No matter how tired I am, that never even crosses my mind now.  I miss my kids when I’m at work.  I want to be home with them through the day even though I can’t at this point in time.  It was a sign of my immaturity that I could think it; it was a sign of my conceit that the words passed my lips.  I knew she was as tired as I was, and if anything she just had different pressures than I did, if not more.  How I could imagine that she would…what? Give me pity or pat me on the back?  Sit me down in the recliner and hand me a beer? I don’t know.  What I did know, though, was that something had to change.  Big time. 

I started reading books on what it meant to be a man, books on leadership, marriage, and the role of a father- really anything that I thought might equip me. From Wild at Heart to The Five Love Languages and everything in between, I read.  I read how to be a leader at work and at home, and then I read some more. I learned that what I needed to work on first was myself.  I quickly found out that I could not get my strength or leadership from my wife.  I could not get it from some outside source.  It had to come from somewhere inside of me. 

Someone who is not strong cannot give strength to others, and I knew that would be a requirement at some point. Easy to read up on… in practice, however, it’s much more…nuanced.  How does it look for me and my family?  It’s messy, I’ll start out with that.  I’ve never been very good at it.  I’ve been blessed with a wife that encourages me to lead. She has told me, repeatedly, that she wants—no, needs—me to be the leader of our household. Through many truth-filled conversations and trial and error, we have found a balance (it will be forever evolving) that works for our home.

The only way to lead that seems right to me is by being a servant.  I’ve learned over time that my love is demonstrated to both my wife and my children through serving them.  Not only that, I feel love for them more when I serve them.  I have to consistently make that choice (because I have found myself to be selfish), which is definitely tough for me to do.  When I make that choice- to be a servant- I feel connected and vital and loved.  It’s amazing how that works!  It’s completely against what I thought when I got into this whole deal.  I serve them, and I feel better.  I serve them, and I feel loved.  I serve them, and I lead. 

Isn’t that backwards?