Parenthood as Ministry

WOW. The blog has basically been on vacation for a year. I've been doing a lot of living and not a lot of writing. Namely, welcoming our sweet baby girl, Norah Gwendolyn Engelking into the world on December 6, 2015! 

Baby girl at 11 weeks old 

Three months ago I was working on staff at our church in full time ministry with high school students and young adults; a job I'd been doing for 5.5 years. I love my job, I'm passionate about that ministry. There were definitely some hard seasons and times when ministry was brutally exhausting. But my perspective on my ministry job has shifted a little bit in recent months. You see, high school students can be difficult, but at least they can feed themselves and wipe their own butt. When they cry because they are mad or sad you can often talk it out or reason with them logically, or simply pray with them and write them an encouragement note. All better (not really but kind of). 

But my ministry has changed a little bit recently. I've been on maternity leave for almost 3 months from my full time job, and am currently unofficially employed by someone who weighs 11ish pounds, poops her pants, can't pay me, and cries often, but I'm pretty obsessed with her. 

However, I started this new job extra tired. For starters, take 38 weeks of pregnancy (she was born early, hallelujah) + 40 pounds of weight gain (yep, 40). Then add difficulty sleeping at the end of pregnancy to the equation. And then a surprise two-week early baby with a 27 hour total induction/ labor and very little sleep in the hospital. Nothing could have prepared me for the physical tiredness I experienced in those first weeks home, and am now just cumulatively experiencing, a new "normal" of tired. But I didn't get vacation time or "sick leave" like I did at work. I just had to "mom it out."

Thankfully we had SO much help - having our parents each live three minutes away is THE best, we're so thankful!  But day after day, my job is to take care of this precious baby. Some days my mind just reels at the forever-ness of it all. I'm not sure I'll fully grasp that reality, except for to just keep doing one day at a time. To be there, to meet her needs, to be her mom. A lot of people can do a lot of other things I can do, but no one can be her mom like I can. 

I think what I'm realizing, in my most exhausted moments (and rare moments of clear thinking like this one) is that parenthood is servanthood. A unique ministry that happens mostly in my home, for hours on end with no one else watching. Norah doesn't say things like, "Gosh mom, you're so awesome. Seriously, thanks for pumping so I can have nutritious breast milk since I really didn't like breastfeeding." 

"OH, and those 200 times when you got up in the night when I was mad, I'm gonna write that down in my baby diary because we were totally bonding. Good times right there." 

"And you know what else? You're like a REALLY good diaper changer. Thanks for pasting all those creams all over my sensitive little booty when my diaper rash was so bad. I really appreciate it." 

"And thanks for letting me use your shoulder to spit up on, I just didn't want to do it anywhere else." 

No no. She can't thank me. At least not right now. But I don't think that's the point. Or the goal. The goal is to take care of my daughter, to humbly admit that it is incredibly important - although largely unseen - work. Every mom is a "working mom." Some moms just have another job, too. 

She needs me. Spending my days catching spit up, never feeling caught up on laundry, wondering How in the world would I ever manage more than one child? Washing bottles, changing diapers.

At the end of the day when my husband comes home, I find myself wanting to justify what I did that day: "guess what? I showered, and I folded laundry, oh AND we took a walk." What did YOU do today, babe? Or when he walks in from work and finds me sitting on the couch feeding the baby and watching Netflix or the Food Network or HGTV AGAIN, I'll say "I promise I don't just sit here all day! I do stuff!"

I like to-do lists. I like measureable goals. I like progress. But then this tiny miracle came crashing into my life two weeks early and changed the scale on me. On nights when she's sleeping well, I excitedly think, "We've arrived, I think she's got the sleep thing down! Go us, our baby is totally the exception in the world of newborns, she's like a sleep genius." 
And then the next night, she cries, "3:15, 4:15, 4:50, 5:30, 6:15, 7:00." Hubby can virtually sleep through all of it, I can sleep through exactly NONE of it. And we've backtracked. 1 step forward, 2 steps back. Semblance of routine. But then it changes. 

I remember one night when she was about 4 weeks old, feeling mad at my baby for not eating well, which means she wasn't sleeping well. I was MAD. At a 4 week old. As if she was maliciously, purposefully trying to make me so tired. I knew that feeling wasn't good. 

But I think what I realized, and I'm not proud to admit it, is that deep down I wanted to be able to control her. To be able to control something. Because if she wasn't sleeping well, it must have been something I was doing wrong, right? If I was in control, then I was the one to blame when my "system" didn't work. Guilt. Shame. Insecurity. You name it. I felt it. I'd read books and Google things like "how to help your infant sleep" because I just wanted to figure her out. In the past couple weeks she had some really fussy feedings, so what did I do? Get on the internet an order a new, different kind of bottle of course. After a long night where she woke up too many times what did I do? Get on Amazon first thing in the morning to order another book about baby sleep. Always looking to fix, always searching for solutions. I like it when things are that easy. But babies don't roll like that. 

But I'm learning that she's a PERSON. Not a person I'm to control but a sweet girl I get to raise. 
Train? Yes. 
Teach? Yes. 
Instruct? yes. 
But control, no no no. 
"A of all," I can't. Duh. 
"B of all," that's not what I'm called to.

I think a part of me knew I had some control issues, and then I became a parent and thought "OH MY GOSH I HAVE ISSUES." Luckily, Norah isn't old enough to realize it, she just thinks I'm awesome and funny and really great to snuggle with. We're gonna ride that out as long as humanly possible. And when she figures out that I have a little bit of basket-case-ness in my mothering, we'll teach her about GRACE. Yep. 

Even though the days kind of blur together right now, and some days I feel like I don't get anything done, I have to remind myself that these are important days. My version of "getting things done" doesn't really work anymore. The achiever in me likes to cross things off a list, pat myself on the back, and think, "I totally crushed today." Working in as a High School Director for several years, I already knew the feeling of 'bringing work home' with me sometimes, having a hard time checking out mentally from the burdens and responsibility that come with caring for people. 

But now I'm not just bringing my ministry home with me at the end of the day. My ministry IS home. Rather than texting a bunch of people to plan meetings at coffee shops, talking about church vision with precious friends and co-workers of mine, I talk to a two month old all day most days. I sing to her, I say brilliant things like, "Hi Norah!" 
"Good job baby" when she hits a toy while laying on her baby gym play mat.
Or "Please eat baby, you're doing such a good job eating. Can you burp? Are you gonna have some burps?" 
Or "Why are you so sad? I want to help you but I don't know what's wrong." 
And "You're so cute, baby. Is daddy coming home soon? Daddy is coming home soon, YAY!" 

Sometimes I'm tempted to try to prove myself, like show people that I remember how to do other things besides be a mom and that I am still good at other things too. 

There's a scene in The Office where all of the Dunder Mifflin employees are having a dance off in a hotel room the night before Jim & Pam's wedding. With each person that goes into the middle of the dance circle to show off their best moves, a couple people yell out, 
"What ELSE you got?" 
"Yeah, what else you got?!" Challenging the dancer to step up their moves. I feel like that is the question that plagues me. No one is literally asking me, "What else you got?" as they observe my mom life. But my inner critic taunts me with the feelings of not-enough-ness in moments of weakness. As if keeping a baby alive 24-7 is like minor job. Right. Maybe its just because I'm used to my work being acknowledged, encouraged, complimented, validated, PAID. 

Pastor and author John Mark Comer in his book Garden City refers to parenthood as "the art of unfolding humans." I love that. My main ministry now is to cooperate with God in the shaping, training, unfolding and growing up of this little person named Norah Gwendolyn. 
And right now teaching my baby about the love of Jesus mostly consists of just, get this - LOVING HER. Humbly serving her even though she literally can't do anything for me in return (except smile a lot and sleep through the night. Those might be my new love languages). And wiping her bottom. And holding her when she's sad. And choosing to live and rest in the reality that the time I spend with her is wildly important and always will be, regardless of who sees it, regardless of how easy/ hard the day is, and regardless of  if she "appreciates" it or not. 

Motherhood is ministry. Legit, valuable, brutally hard, amazing, beautiful ministry. I get to watch her grow and change every day. And the thing is, I'm changing too. 

I'm two and a half months in to this mom gig and I have a long ways to go and encyclopedia-length amounts of information to learn. But what I'm learning right now is to embrace the ministry I've been given. This was a job I prayed for, longed for, and dreamed about for years of my life. And I'm living it. Its messier, harder, and more incredible and fun than I could have imagined, but I'm doing it.

I'm a mom.