The first time I welcomed a child into the world I did so as a single mom. Twenty years later, despite a steep learning curve and various levels of disaster, I’ve managed to repeat history and find myself questioning how is it that I got stuck.
The typical teenager when I graduated highschool I looked forward to my freedom as an adult. I wasn’t quite sure what I was going I do with it, but I wanted it and was glad to have it. In the fall, I began my college career. This was my first time away from home and I had worked hard earning myself enough scholarships to equate to a full ride.
Being away at college was different. It was an experience I was definitely prepared for or so I thought. Two months into my new life on my 18th birthday I received the news. I was pregnant. Instead of celebrating my new found status as an ‘adult’ I cried. I cried and cried and eventually slipped into a depression. I was pregnant and I was alone.
The first thing I worried about was telling my mom. My very strict, occasionally judgemental, slightly overbearing mom. It wasn’t a love fest, but she didn’t toss me out into the streets so essentially it was a shallow victory. Looking back I honestly couldn’t say who may have been more depressed, me or my mom. I just know that she didn’t seem to be able to offer much encouragement or guidance for my forthcoming steps. She did, however, make sure that we were taken care of.
Fast forward 20 years my son is grown well adjusted and in college. At 38 I’m divorced, the proud owner of a baccalaureate degree, 3 types of certifications and able to provide my children with a basic but decent lifestyle. I’m also, for the 4th time, a new mom. But where exactly is it that I went wrong and painstakingly backwards?
Well that friends is where I get lost in the details and trying to find all the hindsight clues. You know all the little things you noticed but felt didn’t equate to much. Strangely despite how much I dig I can’t seem to turn up anything but dirt. All I can see are the similarities in the circumstances, from the pregnancy, to the delivery, to the first few weeks of life. Similarities that scream at me not to make the same exact mistakes, but also force me into scolding myself over the old ones.
At one point I was so overwhelmed by it being so close to the same, I found myself slipping into a similar depressive mode. I had to take a seat and several steps back. Could I possibly be that stupid after all this time? What had really changed besides my age and my address? Well everything to be precise.
The man I had chosen to share my life with for the last 3 years was a different kind of man than my ex. He was by no means perfect but he was also not abusive so I had to give myself a small high five on the inside. Instead of being a depressed young girl with low self esteem. I was a confident grown woman. Though disappointed with myself I wasn’t devastated. The first time I was so ashamed I ran from God whereas this time in my shame I ran towards him.
Some of you may be thinking why shame? Several reasons, exist for that. I have always considered myself a Christian but never realized that in that I was also a hypocrite. Despite having knowledge of the word it was merely words that I had heard, not words that I applied. Like many Christians today I had become comfortable living my life in line with what is acceptable by worldly but not Godly standards.
Prior to becoming pregnant I struggled with changing my life in the ways I felt God was calling me to. It was so much easier to do things the way I had been. A way that everyone around me was accustomed to. As I struggled to change that; in crept the shame. Everyone seemed to have judging eyes in my mind. It took some time for me to understand that shame was not what God intended for me to have.
Christians often talk about the feeling of conviction, when God places something on your heart to let you know you messed up but he still loves you. That is where I wound up after all the shame beat me down. I found myself overwhelmingly hopeful despite the circumstances. I didn’t feel the need to go above and beyond to accommodate his father for him to be there as I had done before. Instead I pray. I pray and I find peace, and each time I get anxious and upset or begin to condemn myself I pray.
In the midst of feeling stuck, God used my circumstances to show me how much I had grown. He showed me that I will always continue to grow and change. That life most certainly won’t always work out the way we want. It doesn’t matter how well we think we’ve planned it. I also learned the walk is a lot less lonely when you’re talking with God and not at Him. Not to mention that he has a sense of humor. How else could I have ended up in my own personal ‘Groundhog day’ trying to get it right? My greatest peace is in knowing that I may not get it right this time either, but with Him I’m definitely on the right path and not so stuck after all.