My husband and I were recently talking about how, these days, it seems people rob romance from things that we used to feel romantic about. I don’t mean romance like sharing a glass of red wine in a horse-drawn carriage at sunset, but romance that purposefully emphasizes, even embellishes, the good in something, and ignores the bad. It seems that more and more people do not appreciate the significant things in our lives, or in our shared history. Our national origin story, the birth of America through brilliance in statecraft and bombs bursting in air, is so awesome–and I don’t use that word flippantly. It has been overused as a cheap marketing term, so let me be clear, the way our country came to be is so A-W-E-S-O-M-E and unbelievable that it inspired romance in Americans for generations. Our grandparents probably felt romantic about loving our country, for its values, for its promises. With each emerging generation, there seems to be a diminishing affection for our nation and its history. It’s not unfashionable to even hate the United States, its founding fathers, and its founding documents.
Moaning Mothers
Sadly, we’ve done the same to motherhood. Just think: when was the last time you read an article or watched a video that made motherhood seem special? In online content and private conversations, the narrative about motherhood only seems to remember how “terrible” it is. They complain and make jokes about how sleep deprived they are, how they are sustained by a continuous drip of wine and coffee, how they seem to be annoyed by virtually everything their children say or do.
Yes, as they say, the struggle is real; motherhood indeed has its difficult moments. But, it feels like there was a time, not long ago, when moms didn’t talk so hatefully about being moms. A time when motherhood still had some of its romance, when it was treated like something worthwhile that women should aspire toward. It was an honor to carry, birth, and raise our little ones. Did mothers of older generations leave out some of the harder details of their days? Of course, because that’s part of how you preserve and cherish romance. But now, we’re doing the opposite. We’ve sapped motherhood of all its romance, and replaced it with a snarky cynicism disguised as “telling the truth” or “being honest.” Truth functions as a counter-balance to romance. It’s the weed that sits in the middle of our beautiful rose garden that reminds us we’re not quite in Eden–there is some real work to do. Mothers who drone on about motherhood as something to be avoided for its difficulty and unpleasantness aren’t being honest, they’re just sending out signals of pessimism. It is so saddening. In an age where social media floods our attention spans with “truth-tellers,” maybe we need some romantics in our lives, too.
Motherhood Redeemed
I’m a modern mother, and I’m writing this because we owe it to ourselves and our daughters and sons to breathe some romance back into parenting, to admire and cherish motherhood so it will continue to be something women aspire towards and strive for. I think I can do some of that here by sharing my romantic motherhood story of redemption and blessing.
Quest for Conception
In June of 2015, my husband (26 years old at the time) and I (at 28) were married. We knew we wanted children and did not mind if they came soon, so we decided not to use preventative measures, and just allow God to bless us in His timing. Like I said, we didn’t mind if our first child arrived quickly. But, they didn’t. A year passed, and it was fine–we got to enjoy a year together, just by ourselves. A couple more years passed, and it was fine–my husband got to finish Seminary, and I got established as a nurse. And then, a couple more years passed, and it wasn’t so fine anymore. Our desire for children increased even more, so we thought perhaps we needed to “get serious” about our quest for conception and, “try harder.” Not preventing pregnancy was no longer enough; now, we had to help it along.
Mourning Barrenness
Beginning in 2018, we started praying diligently. We got more diligent about our “trying,” doing the work of bringing a child into the world. Admittedly, it made all that “trying” not so much fun (speaking of losing romance). This was now regimented and serious business, involving ovulation tests, temperature tracking, keeping track of my cycles, and calendaring. But still, unrelentingly, a few more years went by. Some seasons, I would just feel defeated and exhausted. I was tired of all the work without any results, so we would take a break. We had people pray over us and for us. A friend of ours once even anointed me with oil and laid hands on my tummy–not exactly where conception happens, but close enough for public prayers. Some said we needed to just “have more faith,” or “claim our blessing.” Others, maybe more biblically-minded, reminded us God is sovereign and it will happen in His timing. Others assured us that it would happen soon, especially if we would just stop thinking about it. We understood and accepted everyone’s encouragement, but the reality to us was that we had faith and understood God’s sovereignty. We didn’t need to claim anything, increase our faith, or just stop thinking about it. Although we pleaded with God to give us children, after five years of actively trying, we decided to thank God for all He had provided us with, and to prepare us for whatever it was He did have in store for us. We finally were ready to believe that we may have not been called to have children. This wounded our hearts, of course, and both my husband and I mourned the idea of a life without children, but we trusted God.
Try and Try again!
A friend of mine, who also was having some difficulty getting pregnant, had been seeing an OBGYN she really respected and appreciated. With the help of his guidance, she and her husband finally conceived. She shared his information with us and we decided to see him also. Through this doctor, we learned that there were some roadblocks with my anatomy. We decided to follow his recommendation and take care of a few simple things that were making it harder for us to conceive. I had a routine outpatient surgery to remove polyps that had grown inside my uterus, which were making it not the most hospitable place for a fertilized egg to implant and call home. There was no guarantee that this would fix anything, but it was a possible solution. It was a new idea at a time when we needed one. We are thankful for this doctor, because he helped us learn that I was indeed ovulating, my husband did not have any issues on his side of things, and removing this one potential “roadblock” was a better option than taking unnatural medications, which, to this point, seemed our only alternative. After the surgery, the doctor said the polyps could grow back, so our best chance to conceive would be within three months after the surgery. Those three months came and went, like so many had before.
Trusting and Waiting
In 2021, life threw us some difficult challenges with my work. At the same time I was finishing my MSN degree, I was also being wrongfully terminated. Despite the uncertainty of our future, we had been blessed by some friends to accompany them on a vacation to Hawaii. We took the opportunity to have some fun and get away. We flew out to the island in the last week of October. It had now been eight months since my surgery. Hawaii, as it turns out, is a pretty special place. Sometime between enjoying the food, drinking in the ocean views, and enjoying some private time together, my husband and I unknowingly had conceived our son. We wouldn’t find out until the first week of December. Praise God!
Double Portion!
The months don’t just go by anymore. It is now February 2023, and we are expecting our “irish twin” (if siblings are within one year of one another, this is what they are called). Funny enough, it turns out we conceived this child, our daughter, the exact same week our first child was conceived, precisely one year later. She has the exact same due date her brother did. I was shocked to learn I was pregnant again when our son was only four months old. She was definitely a surprise, because I was still breastfeeding and hadn’t had my cycle yet. Since I found out about her right before my husband and I were going out to celebrate my birthday with a dinner date, she was the best birthday surprise I could have asked for. She wasn’t planned by us, but that certainly doesn’t mean she wasn’t planned by Him. God has been so faithful.
Grateful Mother
You aren’t a mom by accident. You are a mom because God anointed you for motherhood. You aren’t sustained by red wine and coffee. You are sustained by the grace and mercy of God. Reject the world’s jaded and cynical view of motherhood. Reclaim the romance that belongs to our station, cherish what God has given you. Emphasize the good, forget the bad, and have gratitude for it all.
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