I wrote the first draft of this article last year, before I even knew that I was expecting our ninth child. He was born almost three weeks ago, a precious seven pound, four ounce bundle that immediately captivated the affection of his parents and siblings. Six days later he was diagnosed with Tetrology of Fallot, a combination of heart defects that requires open-heart surgery and could have taken his life had it gone unrecognized.
So these snuggle moments are doubly precious. First because this may well be my last baby (yes, I’m getting pretty old). But also because we’ve been freshly reminded that we just never know how long we have with these little ones we’ve received on loan from God. I want to enjoy every moment.
But I ask myself—at the beginning of an average day, do I look forward to spending time with my children? Do I cringe or smile when my 20-month old comes toddling over to me calling “Mama!”? Do I value my role of influence on the next generation? Am I enjoying my children, or complaining about all the extra work they bring?
Are Babies Worth the Trouble?
I was recently planning our poetry lessons for homeschool and came across this poem by Edgar Guest:
WHAT A BABY COSTS
“How much do babies cost?” said he
The other night upon my knee;
And then I said: “They cost a lot;
A lot of watching by a cot,
A lot of sleepless hours and care,
A lot of heart-ache and despair,
A lot of fear and trying dread,
And sometimes many tears are shed
In payment for our babies small,
But every one is worth it all.
“For babies people have to payA heavy price from day to day—
There is no way to get one cheap.
Why, sometimes when they’re fast asleep
You have to get up in the night
And go and see that they’re all right.
But what they cost in constant care
And worry, does not half compare
With what they bring of joy and bliss—
You’d pay much more for just a kiss.
“Who buys a baby has to pay
A portion of the bill each day;
He has to give his time and thought
Unto the little one he’s bought.
He has to stand a lot of pain
Inside his heart and not complain;
And pay with lonely days and sad
For all the happy hours he’s had.
All this a baby costs, and yet
His smile is worth it all, you bet.”
– A Heap o’ Livin’, p. 18
That sentimental poem reminds me of these lines from Stepping Heavenward. The fictional journal author, Kate, records the reaction of her grumpy sister-in-law, Martha, to the birth of Kate’s third child:
“MAY 24.-I celebrated my little Una’s third birthday by presenting her with a new brother. Both the children welcomed him with delight that was itself compensation enough for all it cost me to get up such a celebration. Martha takes a most prosaic view of this proceeding, in which she detects malice prepense on my part. She says I shall now have one mouth the more to fill, and two feet the more to shoe; more disturbed nights, more laborious days, and less leisure for visiting, reading, music, and drawing.
“Well! this is one side of the story, to be sure, but I look at the other. Here is a sweet, fragrant mouth to kiss; here are two more feet to make music with their pattering about my nursery. Here is a soul to train for God, and the body in which it dwells is worthy all it will cost, since it is the abode of a kingly tenant. I may see less of friends, but I have gained one dearer than them all, to whom, while I minister in Christ’s name, I make a willing sacrifice of what little leisure for my own recreation my other darlings had left me. Yes, my precious baby, you are welcome to your mother’s heart, welcome to her time, her strength, her health, her tenderest cares, to her life-long prayers! Oh, how rich I am, how truly, how wondrously blest!”
– Elizabeth Prentiss, Stepping Heavenward p. 178
As I thought about those two passages—the poem and the novel excerpt—for a moment I was taken aback by the simple, exuberant joy they express about the privilege of being a parent.
No one talks like that anymore, I thought … most of the time we’re too busy trying to solve all the problems of parenthood, figuring out the best way to train and teach and discipline and disciple, and fretting over everything that we and our children do wrong, to actually enjoy the relationship. And even at those times when we do “cherish the moments,” it’s usually linked with a sense of guilt that we don’t do it more and dread that we soon won’t be able to. Or is it just me?
I know that I do often enjoy being a mom. But I wish that joy was more open, unashamed, and expressive. I wish that I didn’t feel awkward talking about how full my heart is with nine children, fearful that it sounds hypocritical when I know I so often complain about how full my hands are. But really, “how rich I am, how truly, how wondrously blessed!”
Those of us who’ve been blessed with the riches of children have no right to boast or feel superior to those who haven’t been blessed the same way. We wouldn’t think ourselves better than our neighbor because we had a bigger house or a nicer car in the driveway, right? We’re just stewards of those blessings, keeping them on loan from God to use for His glory and the good of others.
In the same way, God has entrusted our children to us for a short time to raise for His purposes, which don’t include feeding our ego or padding our self image. Having more children doesn’t increase our worth in God’s eyes; it does increase our responsibility and accountability to Him.
But all that said, I think there’s an element in these quotes that is sadly missing in modern discussions about family. We’re very good at complaining about—uh, I mean emphasizing—the responsibility side of raising children. What is the stereotypical mother of a few children if not busy, weary, run down, and unappreciated? No wonder so few young women today would put motherhood at the top of their bucket list when they grow up hearing only how hard it is.
But motherhood also has benefits that no other profession can bring. We marvel at the awesome dependency of a newborn. We delight in the smile of a baby. We thrill in the warm cuddles of a toddler and laugh at the misspelled love notes of a kindergartener. We appreciate the developing interests and skills of an older child and enjoy the loving camaraderie of a responsible teen. What other job can compare?
Then why do we find it so much easier to complain about the challenges of motherhood than to talk unreservedly about how much joy our children bring? Somehow, expressing delight in the simple pleasures of motherhood—whether on social media, in a conversation with a neighbor, or even among friends at church—seems slightly inappropriate. But sharing about how tired and busy and frustrated our children make us is quite normal, even expected.
I think sometimes we don’t talk about the joys of motherhood because we’re afraid to offend those who either cannot or have chosen not to have children. Of course we should be tactful and kind. But we find ways to tastefully post or talk about how much we enjoy our vacations, delicious restaurant meals, even our new phones, without offending those who can’t fit such things in their budget. It’s just expected that we share the things we delight in, and our friends are happy for us. Jesus even tells the story of a woman who finds a lost coin and “… calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost” (Lk. 15:9).
If we can talk about how much we like the latest gadget we bought, certainly we should be able to communicate our joy in mothering eternal souls. We shouldn’t assume that the photos we post on social media will say it for us. If we want people to understand and join us in valuing our profession, then we must talk about it with words that show we value it, too.
Maybe another reason we don’t really enjoy our children is that we’ve swallowed the lie of our culture that says kissing a baby or listening to toddlers pattering around is worthless compared to the fulfillment of a “real” job. But why would it be a worthy profession to teach other people’s children and menial labor to teach your own? Why would it be valuable to enter facts into a computer or make phone calls for one’s boss, but not to manage one’s own home well? Why would it be better to help a big corporation make money than to save your own family money by helping them eat frugal, healthy meals? Why does creating a painting or a movie draw the world’s admiration, but not raising a child who is obedient, joyful, and wise? As G.K. Chesterton said much better,
“How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No; a woman’s function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute. I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of her task; I will never pity her for its smallness.”
– G.K. Chesterton
But the sweet and sentimental joy of snuggling a baby under his chin and hearing his uproar of laughter may not seem fulfilling enough for those seeking a six-figure success story. When in all your high school or college years did you ever hear a teacher mention godly motherhood—or motherhood period—as something to be valued, emulated, or aspired to? Unless you were homeschooled or in an unusual Christian school, my guess would be not ever. Domesticity is akin to slavery in the minds of many women, and so to celebrate it is in their eyes actually to promote evil.
This is a bigger discussion than I’m ready to pursue in this article, but others (including Elisabeth Elliot and Rebekah Merkle) have done so very thoroughly, and I encourage you to study their resources if you have any doubts on the matter. A good starting place is Elisabeth Elliot’s book Let Me Be a Woman and her Gateway to Joy recordings and newsletters.
What has been clouding my thinking and keeping me from truly delighting in or sharing my delight in the children God has given me?
Maybe it’s none of the reasons above. Maybe I just need more grace and humility to practice the discipline of gratitude.
As Mystie Winkler so aptly says, “Gratitude isn’t gratitude unless it is directed at a person.” Gratitude isn’t making a list of things we like; it’s having a heart of contentment that thanks God, by faith, for His power and goodness displayed in every situation—good or bad, and rejoices in the privilege of suffering for His purposes. Elizabeth Prentiss said in the words of her character Kate, “I make a willing sacrifice of what little leisure for my own recreation my other darlings had left me.”
But a list of blessings can help us start recognizing God’s goodness and praising Him. So I’m thanking the Lord for letting me enjoy these motherhood moments today:
Were there also whines and fights and frustrations? Yes. Do I have no idea how I’m going to finish the school planning and laundry and cleaning today? Yes. Is the spiritual and physical health of my children always a burden on my soul? Yes. But even through these trials, God is showing me His goodness and reminding me of the privilege of motherhood. How truly blessed and rich we are!
If you’ve been blessed to be a mother, please share in the comments—what small things do you love about motherhood?
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