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To the mother whose husband doesn’t babysit – I get it.
I agree with you completely.
Neither does mine.
He and I both bristle at the b- word, too.
My husband, like yours, is a devoted dad who cares for our three daughters, ages 6, 3, and 1 year. He cuts up their food at the dinner table. He wipes away the tears, listens to problems, searches for blankies, and kisses away boo-boos. He does it all with incredible empathy, patience, and animation.
He even plays Barbies much better than I do.
Before we became parents, he was on a much different trajectory, however.
You see, he had been raised by a dad who seemed to consider his job good and done when he got home from work each evening, and plopped down in his recliner with a diet Dr. Pepper to watch the game. He didn’t do diapers, brush hair, or wipe messes. He rarely spoke; let alone about feelings. He was not unlike other dads his age; or the ones who came before him.
This was my husband’s model.
As the father of my future children grew into manhood, he battled depression and quietly began exploring concepts like identity, love, and family relations. He studied God’s Word. He read Wild at Heart, by John Eldridge. He knew that he’d been raised in a broken system (aren’t we all?), and his identity had been affected by the lack of contact, affirmation, and approval.
He faced this reality; and with what he knew, feebly approached his father.
There was embarrassment. There were tears.
The redemption and healing in their relationship, and the tender manhood that sprang forth from them both is a testament to my husband’s great courage.
But don’t forget, the stage had already been set. The habits, barely yet practiced, where still rooted into his muscle memory through the generations. So as we looked forward to the arrival of our first bundle of joy, I asked him, “What are you looking forward to about parenting this little girl-child?”
His answer just about terrified me: Teaching her to drive…Taking her back-packing across country…Dropping her off at college.
“Whoa! Whoa there!” I said, “She’s going to need you waaaay before age 16! In fact, if you don’t start raising her until then, you’ll have already lost her!”
I know. I’m a daughter, myself.
So we dug in deeper. We examined other examples of fatherhood that we knew. He read my copy of Captivating, by Eldridge and his wife, Staci. He started to understand that diaper changing, chin wiping, and bow tying went a lot deeper than lending a helping hand to a tired postpartum partner.
He had to press the reset button and BECOME.
He, like your husband, is part of a band of brothers who are shifting a paradigm about the work of fatherhood that went awry who knows when, and our language hasn’t caught up with them yet.
So many moms still view themselves as the best; the only, caregiver. In some cases, they are.
Some have no choice in the matter.
That’s why I try to hide the bristles popping up on my skin when a friend asks me out of “generational habit” if I left Dad at home to babysit while I got out for a break.
In all honestly, as you alluded to yourself, it often does feel like an escape. Now that I’m in the thick of stay at home parenting, there is a certain bliss that I experience when he – on top of all the hard work he does for us – sacrificially offers me the chance to walk out the front door. Alone. No one’s hand to hold. No bulky diaper bag strapped across my shoulder.
But you’re completely right that he’s NOT a babysitter.
And depending on how good of a relationship I have with that inquisitive female in the grocery store aisle, I either smile and nod, or assert to them what a great and capable father he is; someone our girls can trust in completely for all their needs.
Refining the language.
Honoring fathers.
Acknowledging what loving men God has given us.
Today I did a thing . . . I read my Bible in front of my kids. Now, I know you’re probably thinking, So what? What’s the big deal? So many people do this. You should have always been doing this. And you’re right. But, I never really did this until today. Sure, they see me read my Bible on Sundays during church. Still for some reason, I had myself convinced that I had to have the perfect, peaceful setting to open God’s Word at home. Quiet time. Uninterrupted, alone time. Which any mom knows rarely actually happens. But today,...
This week would be our daughter’s seventh heavenly birthday. Over the years, I’ve seen others go through the pain of infertility, the devastation of a miscarriage, or stillbirth. The isolation grief can bring often causes us to be silent. There is more pain in silence. I’ve grown to learn as I began to open up more about my journey, God has been able to weave us together to offer a greater sense of healing. I wrote the letter below the year after our loss, the stillbirth of our daughter Anna Grace. I hadn’t read it since, until now. It’s a...
Being strong doesn’t mean you never cry. It means you find the courage to continue within the tears you shed. Setting boundaries is a facet of strength that is often overlooked. You cannot be the mama, wife, friend, sister, aunt (and more) you are called to be if there is nothing left of you at the end of each day. There is strength in setting limits, both for yourself and other people, that can’t be found anywhere else. RELATED: To The 30-Something Moms Some of the strongest people I’ve met know how to ask for help. They set aside their...
It wasn’t supposed to look like this. Grief wasn’t supposed to steal our dreams, our hopes, our future. Death wasn’t supposed to secure such a grip that it created this shocking upheaval on the life we once knew. It was supposed to be different. Life was supposed to look different. But that pivotal moment when my son took his last breath and slipped from this world changed the course of life as I knew it. The severed line of before and after had been drawn. RELATED: God Actually Does Give Us More Than We Can Handle It is our gut...
Dear God, I’m weary in the waiting, but you know exactly what you’re doing Right now, my husband and I need you to show us what’s next. I know your plan is always right and good, but I’m growing weary in this waiting period. Close family and friends are asking, “What’s next?” Their words are the exact echo of my heart. Sometimes it’s difficult responding, “We’re still in the process,” because I like answers now. But often, you don’t work on my timetable. It’s hard living in the in-between. I’m anticipating the next place we can put down roots and...
“You take all the pieces of my life. Put ’em back together, make it all all right. Oh, you forgive me. Only you can heal my broken heart. Make all things new with a brand new start. Oh, you forgive me.” My 4-year-old was belting the words in the car on the way to school. His little voice couldn’t quite keep up with the Vacation Bible School soundtrack, so he was always half a word behind. RELATED: I Don’t Want To Raise Church Kids, I Want To Raise Jesus Kids In the front seat, I couldn’t stop smiling. I love...
First times and fears. Sleepy days and restless nights. Endless love and constant worry. The day you came into this world, you were fragile and so small. I was worried I would break you and prayed for the strength to raise you well. Though the days all ran together, I remember as clear as day, you looked at me and smiled for the first time and I was yours forever. The long nights, rocking and swaying, ended in the blink of an eye, when I least expected them to. Thank you, God, for this gift, for this baby. Motherhood always...
For the woman who needs to hear this at this time. You are special because you are made in His image. RELATED: Sister, Don’t You Dare Question Your Worth The One within me keeps you calm. He is the rock. Hold on to Him, don’t let go. And even when you let go, search for Him. He is close by. It is the One true God who keeps you alive. He keeps you and holds you through every step of your life. You are still here. You are here for a reason. Breathe, dear sister, and hold on. The King...
My son has a children’s Bible we read on a semi-daily basis. It’s one of those books filled with common Bible stories accompanied by illustrations. My son loves it, and I love sharing my faith with him. Becoming a mother has changed the way I read the Bible. I have more in common now with Sarah and Hannah, who prayed and begged for a child despite infertility. I understand better how Rachel and Leah engaged in a war of comparisons as they competed for their husband’s love and respect by giving him more children. I can sympathize with Mary when...
Blessed is the mother who lies awake all night with worry. Her mind may race but her heart is big. Blessed is the mother who cries when her child cries, whether it’s a boo-boo or a bully that’s hurt her baby. She will comfort her child with the comfort she receives from her Heavenly Father. Blessed is the mother who cleans and cleans without ever seeing the results in her home. Every which way she turns, she sees another mess trailing behind her. She will spend eternity in a house with many rooms prepared for her by her Father. RELATED:...