Friday Mom’s lovely meditation on parenthood and truth-telling got me spinning off into thinking about mommy guilt. There’s got to be safe space for good-enough mothers to vent and gripe without being judged or lambasted for whining. Judith Warner’s book Perfect Madness spoke to a lot of women, including me, about the insanity of this “mommy religion” which expects women to live and die by their children, to transfuse every ounce of their lifeblood into their children’s lives, but it also inspired tons of criticism. Many people flamed her for addressing the concerns of, let’s face it, middle class/affluent women. “Cry me a river,” they said. “You knew what you were getting into, and there are people who have it much worse than you, and think about all the people who can’t even have kids, so suck it up and deal with it.”
Because apparently, you only have the right to complain if you are at the absolute bottom of the misery food chain. Apparently you are only authorized to point out injustice or flaws in a system or mindset if there’s absolutely nobody worse off than you. This is of a piece with churchy folks who say, when faced with suffering and grief in their lives, “Oh, who am I to complain? So many people have it so much worse than I do. I lost my father to cancer, but I had him for so many years, think about those people who lose children.”
Why can’t we all just complain when we feel like complaining, and mourn when we feel grief? Wouldn’t that be more honest? And in turn, can’t we all just be reasonable enough to grant that grief over the loss of a parent does not diminish the grief over the loss of a child? There’s plenty of grief to go around. And can we grant that when I complain about my kid, I’m not saying that I wish I’d never had kids? And when I gripe about having no time for myself, that I’m not trying to one-up a single mother of four who works two jobs and goes to night school?
It’s not a competition. The expectations put on mothers these days are heavy. They’re not Sudanese-refugee heavy, and nobody’s claiming they are. But a good full-throated vent is healthy, and anyone who doesn’t like it can get bent.
At our church, we do something I like. Before the prayers of the people, we invite folks to share specific prayer concerns, and the pastor who isn’t preaching that day (usually me) prays for them right then and there. Later in the service, we share joys. Meanwhile, the lay leader writes down the concerns so that the church can follow up as appropriate.
Two weeks ago, the lay leader asked for prayer. She’s a delightful, vivacious woman, an elder in the church, and was asking for prayers for her 9-month-old son who, it turned out, had fallen down two flights of stairs earlier that week. “He’s totally fine,” she said brightly. “He wasn’t hurt at all. But I’d like prayers for him.”
I wasn’t sure at first why she had mentioned this during the concerns, rather than the joys. He was OK, right? I had seen him just that morning. But as I began to pray, as I began to ask God for continued healing and strength for this little boy, the mother started crying. She cried as I asked God to strengthen the rest of the family, she cried as she dutifully wrote her son’s name on the prayer list, she cried as I went on to the next person.
She was crying for her son. She was crying from relief. But really, I think she was also crying from guilt. She had turned her back for just a moment, you see, and he took a turn and fell, and fell, and fell. She asked for prayers for him, but she was the one in need of healing.
We Presbyterians don’t do personal confession like the more priestly traditions do, but I’m ready to take her aside, if needed, and let her vent and second-guess herself and feel guilty. And then to assure her of God’s surpassing forgiveness.
But then again, I think she’s clear on that concept. The one she needs forgiveness from is herself.
12 Responses to “musing on venting”
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Asides
» I have been remiss in posting SBJ’s latest stats: 23 pounds and 27 inches at six months. Yes, I’ve got the big mama biceps.
» Aaaaaand little she-who-is lost another tooth this week!
» SBJ is four months old, 19 pounds 5 ounces, and 26 inches tall. GIGANTOR!
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Well put. All of us have concerns, stress and needs that sometimes are not addressed. Venting, whining, or whatever you call it, is, IMHO, an important and necessary part of our lives. More necessary for some than for others, but necessary. Thanks for sharing. I always enjoy reading what you have to say.
I liken this need to “switch off” feelings to the “flicker” generation.
In my day, I at least needed to get up off my butt and walk all the way to the TV set and rotate the knob to one of 3 stations that held not much choice of programming, but at least on my way from couch to set, I could deal with the disappointment at the time.
with regard to good-enough mothers: recently i gave away a cross-stitch that a friend made for me about 20 years ago. the cross-stitch simply said “wonderful.” recently i’ve decided that i’d rather have a cross-stitch that said “good-enough” or “pretty good.” more in the morning.
Mamala, I have no idea what you’re talking about… but please explain, it sounds intriguing.
Oh wait, I get it. There were fewer options then, so the emotional issues were more cut-and-dried… also, life moved slower, so the emotions could be dealt with more immediately, rather than being pushed down in the name of being productive.
ding ding ding! 10 points.
Thanks for this!!!! I intend to respond more intelligently later today, but wanted you to know I appreciate the thoughts and the link (my first ever!!!).
This makes a lot of sense.
Forgiveness is a bitter medicine. To fully accept it we have to understand how we have truly injured the one who is forgiving us.
I don’t believe Judas killed himself because he betrayed Christ. He killed himself because he could not accept forgiveness for doing so.
This is why we must accept forgiveness. Complaints are often statements of our failings - or perceived failings. You don’t have to be Judas to fall short of what is expected of you - or to hurt because you know you are forgiven.
XT
you go girl.
I often think about how little extended family support mothers have nowadays compared to most of human history. If mom was overwhelmed, grandma or unmarried auntie was around to rock the cradle. The vast majority of us don’t have that, and if we’re going to work, too, we’re just adding a layer of things with which to contend. I’m not advocating a “return” to Beaver Cleaverland, but we have to acknowledge that “parenting + career = not enough to go around” in many cases. It means compromises. And although I hate that this is true in 2005, as What Now? was posting about earlier, it is still commonplace that women are taking most of the parenting responsibilities, whether or not they work outside the home, too.
I am thankful that I received a call to a church where they think staying home with a sick child is not just a good use of my time but the only appropriate choice I could possibly make. The trade-off is that I don’t make nearly so much money as my colleagues who serve where there is more office culture. It’s a trade-off that works for us right now, because it’s more than a trade-off. It’s tentmaking; the tents I’m making are my children.
Frankly, I’m appalled at people who complain and moan ad-nauseam about stupid mundane details in their life with no sense of context, perspective, or real purpose.
(sorry, shameless plug.)
Thanks, Reverend Mother! Yes, I do feel guilty sometimes for complaining because there is always somebody who has it worse than I do. That little voice inside of me has always cried out, “But wait, don’t I matter, too?” Thanks for reminding me that I do!
Preacher Mom, if you read this, I haven’t been able to comment on your webpage–an error occurs. I just wanted to let you know. I would respond if I could!