Lost in a Role

August 05, 2012

Lost in a Role

Lunch at Tavern On The Green, with my mom's dear friend Ruthie and her daughter-in-law (and my friend) Bobbi Jo. Just another Christmas-time tradition in my single years.

Somewhere in the files marked "Light Years Ago (but not really)", I recall sitting in my corporate corner office daydreaming about cheery gingham kitchen curtains and little tawny headed offspring coloring in between the lines while listening to Mr. Rogers teach them how to make telescopes out of toilet paper rolls. My Legg's Silken Mist pantyhose-clad leg would twirl my desk chair towards the lake-side view out the window while my mind still was lost in the domestic utopia I had created over open requisitions.

I was who I was, but I was longing for a role that was not yet mine.

Celebrating my 28th birthday with my sweet step-son and husband at a local park. Three babies in Heaven and I wasn't sure if there would be any of my own here on Earth. But still, life was good.

Then somewhere in the files marked "Just A Few Years Ago (but already foggy)", when I purposefully take pause, I remember wondering if my body would be able to get a baby through all nine months of development. I had first felt the horrible pain of an ectopic pregnancy, then the staggering loss of a dream in the delivering of our stillborn daughter at 27 weeks and then a miscarriage at five weeks. While there was no connection between each of those losses, there was a connection being made in my mind between being unable to birth a child and the rest of my life as a wife and step-mom. As it turned out for me, for whatever reason, God went on to allow us to experience five healthy births. Before I knew my future, I was who I was, but I was grieving a role that was seemingly not mine to have.

Celebrating the 18th birthday of the eldest child...and looking considerably more put-together than we normally do. But that's what you do when you go out: try to fool the general public, and hopefully, yourself.

These days, I am furiously paddling in the deep file called "Hovering on the line of all that is Sane: Life with five smallish children (very much right now and feeling like it will never end"). Each year as they have grown another year older, we deeply thank God for their health and hope that perhaps this will be the year things start to become less chaotic-circus like and a more jovial merry-go-round existence. But each year, it has only grown more busy. Not because our calendar is full, but because we have five little people in a similar stage of life...go! Go! GO! My days start early and end late and are packed with non-stop requests, whining, skirt/shirt-pulling and moments of sheer exasperation. Most days include these thoughts whirling to the surface: What am I doing wrong? Can't I read one book to an interested child without the others making major distractions? Can they just not get along for more than 10 freakin' minutes? What the heck is wrong with me?...I love my children more than life itself, but I do NOT like this job. It's for the freakin' birds!!!! And with all those files in my past, I wonder at my desperation and lapses in appreciation for what I have. Sure, there are moments of glory and wonder at the beauty of what my job entails, and I am always thankful. Since I've been honest so far, I will continue. While there is underlying gratitude, there is also a restlessness. It seems lately I've been resisting the way that this role that I used to long for and grieve over has overtaken my life and I feel as though I am losing who I am in it.

Please, please do not read this is as being ungrateful or taking for granted a role that He so graciously granted me to play. When I write this, I keep in mind the women I know that would give up almost everything to be able to have even one child. But even after having one or twenty children, I think there are more than a few women who come to this place. Perhaps not. I am being honest here, as I always strive to be when I decide to go ahead and pin my thoughts down.

I am working through what it means to whole heartedly embrace the role I've been given to fulfill and still not lose myself in it. Unfortunately, if you've read this far waiting for a grand revelation of how it's done, you should know I have nothing to offer as a sure-fire way to do this. I cannot just jump into acting classes, or doing a 'writers retreat' weekend every month. It's not because I am being a martyr and saying "it's not about me, it's about the children". I know the line about it being important to take care of myself so I can better take care of my family. It is simply very challenging to find a way to do this with five small ones. Challenging, but not impossible.

I might not find myself on stage at the local theater belting out "The Hills Are Alive" or penning the weekly column in the paper I imagine or hosting a local television or radio talk show...but I am asking God to remind me of who I am as His child, and that might not result in anything extra-circular. He is my source, for He made me...not to be a victimized slave to children, but a whole woman who has been given the gift of children and has giftings meant to share with them and others who He brings along my path. He does for you too, my friend. Of that I am confident.

I would leave you with a scripture verse (which is very true), but instead, I will leave you this (which is very funny):

Here's to loving those in our life, thanking God for the gifts we've been given (what or who ever they are!), shedding our applique vests (unless you are the rare specimen that feels sexy in one) and returning the "garments" that make us forget that we are more than a role.

Shine on!