Heard a powerful sermon in church yesterday about bringing blessings to your family. But something I’ve had a hazy awareness of for quite some time finally crystalized in my mind yesterday, and I had to repent of it and resolve to start doing something about it.
I realized I was tired of being a mom. I know that the job never ends, but I’m ready to move on to the next phase in life–but I’m eight years too early.
Since the birth of my third child is what kicked off my most severe mixed state ever, I’ve been impaired by bipolar disorder for her whole life. We finally had to put her in daycare even though I was not working because I was too impaired to take care of her full-time once she reached toddlerhood. I thought I had gotten better, but recent events have shown me that I am in a lot of ways ready for her to be as grown as my other two.
I don’t like arranging playdates. I used to love planning birthday parties. I’m even getting over watching kids’ movies and animated films, which I have always loved. I feel helpless in the face of helping her with her homework. I don’t spend the time with her that I should. I especially don’t like field trips but feel obligated to go because I am in a position where I can. I’m content to let her play by herself instead of joining in with her like I did my other two.
I feel like I’m neglecting her in some ways. And that hurts to admit.
SO I went down front at the altar call and prayed with one of the pastors about it, and he prayed I’d find the strength and joy in motherhood that God intended for me to have. So today is a brand-new day, and I hope and pray it’s a brand-new start.