Doug and Rebecca Walker

Yup, I admit it. I’m just a wannabe. I want to be a supermom. But I’m not. Everyday, countless things remind me of all the ways that I fall short. So, instead of living under some false pretenses, let me just admit

1 – I cry. I do. It’s not just the babies that cry around here. Sometimes it’s just because I’m so tired. Other times it’s because I’m overly emotional, we watch The Little Princess, or I remember some random memory. Sometimes I weep over the idea that I even have 4 kids as an infertile wife. Other times, I’m so overwhelmed – either with all the pressures on me or from all the prayers God has answered. And sometimes I cry because I’m so fearful. Fearful that I won’t be all that I want to be for my husband and children.

2 – I’ve had to ask for help. I want to do it all on my own. I thought by now I would be doing it on my own. But alas, I’m in over my head. I still depend on my folks a fair amount. I know. My mom has already accomplished her mothering years. I’m the last one of her kids to have a baby and she’s already helped out with the births of lots of other grandkids. And now I went and surprised her with triplets. I’m probably taking years off her life and wearing her down straight to her core. But the simple fact is, there is no one Doug and I would want more to help us care for our children. And there is no one better with babies, than my mom. When she comes, she doesn’t just give help to the babies, she supports and helps maintain the entire family. I’ve no doubt that my mom is helping my marriage, my health, my sanity, Doug, Audrey, the pets, and the babies!

I also have a nanny. Oh yeah. I’ll admit that too. I never wanted to be that kind of a mom, as I pictured them to be somewhat lazy, pretentious ladies who’s solution simply lie in just needing to give her children her all. While there may be some women out there like that, it didn’t take too long for me to see that my best, wasn’t good enough. The housework was getting too neglected. I couldn’t help Audrey with homeschooling. I couldn’t ever get a nap, manage my health problems, and get to physical therapy 3-4x/week. So, I hired someone. I feel like I can’t afford to do it…..but I can’t afford to not do it. We pray that God supplies the finances and that we wean off of her help soon. I thought she’d be done with us by Christmas……but hmmm, my calendar now says January.

3 – My house is often messy. I know – me? You can’t imagine what a huge leaf I’ve turned over. My OCD desires to vacuum every day and never let laundry accumulate into my color-coded hampers. My love for wiping up counters, sinks and stovetops have all gone out the window. I’ll admit my van is nasty. I couldn’t vacuum it out and wipe down the dash with my big belly during the pregnancy and with the c-section afterwards, so it still hasn’t gotten done. I’ve got little (some big) piles of clutter sitting around needing organizing. Some projects went undone during the pregnancy bed rest, remained undone when the babies came a bit unexpectedly, during the 17 day long hospital stay, and round the clock nursing. And call me crazy, but I’ve just decided that it’s not that important any more. Gasp! Sure, I have moments when I obsess and complain about the messes, but I’ve decided that when Doug gets home in the evenings, I’d rather be a family and spend time with Audrey, and do family devotions, than attack every fur ball on the floor, every stray cup in the sink, every burpcloth that has been erped-up on.

4 – I live in the land of guilt. My mind is constantly bogged down with idle thoughts of guilt. I wish this. I wish that. I should’ve done this. I should’ve done that. I would have loved to have this and that. I can’t believe I ….. If only….. And my most common phrase is, ‘I’m sorry….’ I worry I’m a disappointment to everyone. I wonder if I’ve drained our church, extended family, Audrey and Doug of all their patience and help. I war with myself over everything, because everything seems to boil down to cost vs. time. Sometimes I spend the extra time to do something and lament the time I’m taking away from other things. In other areas, I spend the extra money so I’ll have the time, but feel guilty how I’m financially stressing the family. I had lots of time during the long weeks of bedrest during my pregnancy to dream up how I thought life would be when the babies were born. I had some ideas that were up for debate, some that were non-negotiable, and some that were no- brainers, some that weren’t an issue at all. However, all that has turned upside down, and I feel terrible that things aren’t the way I wanted, promised, or worked for them to be. I am tempted to keep in the forefront of my mind examples of women who do things better – women who made it further into their pregnancies, women who don’t hire help, women who save money by using cloth diapers, etc.

5 – I wonder what other people think of me. Grrrrr. So often, I’m a closet people pleaser. Because I have a strong propensity for analyzing and cataloging everyone’s opinions, I ‘m keenly aware of my actions and what I think others are thinking of me, based on previous conversations I’ve had with them. So many people have given me advice about child-rearing, breastfeeding, cloth vs disposable diapers, vaccines, sleeping schedules, bringing babies to church, etc. I get the idea that most folks don’t think my life is as busy as I do! People throw out little tips to me that Doug and I snicker about it private. So many people have these quick little ideas that start with, ‘you should try…","all you’d have to do is…." And everyone’s tips start with the most aggravating word, "just!" Just do this. Just try that. Guess, what? It’s JUST not that easy with 3 infants. We know! This leads into my next issue….

6 – I get annoyed with so many people. So many folks try to relate, give us advice, share random anecdotal stories, and say they understand. I want to be patient. I want to assume the best of people. I want to work hard to evaluate others’ comments for nuggets of truth and wisdom. And I know that people can have good advice about a situation without going through it. But when a mom of one or two children tell me they know exactly how I feel about being tired and having to get up in the night with their kids, I have to believe that getting up 3x as often in the night has to be more difficult. I want to ask them if they really understand what it’s like to have one baby wake the others until they are all screaming and there is only one of you to three crying babies! When folks say they share in my dilemma of how to get to the grocery store, I wonder when the last time they had to figure out how to finagle 3 infant seats at once. And really, don’t tell my about your nursing struggles. I’m one person trying to meet the needs of 3 others all at the same time. When’s the last time you did that?

7 – I don’t count my blessing like I ought. I will say, not a day goes by that I’m not struck with the reality of the miracle God has brought into Doug’s and my life. I mean really – 4 kids! Triplets. How does an infertile, chronically ill girl have 4 children? Sometimes the funniest, most random things will either make me giggle or weep in disbelief. Sometimes, it’s the massive collection of breastmilk and baby food in the freezer. Sometimes, it’s the line up of carseats. Other times, it’s the sounds of three crying babies. But just having these infrequent, random realizations doesn’t mean I’m nearly as grateful to God as I should be. I need to be more purposeful and regular with my praise and thanks. When I’m frustrated with my small house, I need to remember that I have a shelter from the cold. When I tire of all the laundry, I should be glad I don’t have to go down the river with a washboard. When I get sick of making baby food, I should be thankful I didn’t also have to plant and plow the fields to get that food. And when I fear I cannot afford all the expenses of triplets, I should be so grateful for Doug’s job. When I tire of, get frustrated with, or not know how to instruct my children, I should recall those many, many years that I was without children- begging God, pining for, and paying in order to have them. This lack of gratitude is a huge, shocking disappointment to me. How could I not be so grateful for the one thing I worked for the hardest, prayed for most earnestly, and paid for most costly?

8 – I neglect the Word. It’s one of my greatest shames. His Word should be my greatest love, my greatest resource, my greatest hope, my greatest solution to all my troubles. But in my sin, I deceive myself into thinking that I’ll pray and read later or tomorrow. I convince myself that it’s more important to fold laundry, feed my family, or get rest instead of read my Bible. I’ve even found myself asking God why He’s given me so many responsibilities, that He hasn’t provided me the opportunity to obey. Pretty low-down and dirty of me, huh? While I recognize my sin in neglecting my relationship with my Lord, I wrestle and anguish over how to practically read and pray. One major problem is that I cannot stay awake. If I’m not moving, I fall asleep. And even while moving, many actions I do are done mindlessly – so tired that I make mistakes and can’t remember later what I’ve actually done. I thought carrying 3 babies in my womb was super-human. I thought nursing all 3 was pretty super-human. But indeed, devotions, seem to be my most difficult battle.

9 – I’m a big, fat sinner. That’s what all of this boils down to. I’m impatient, unkind, selfish, rude, distrusting, undisciplined, and weak. I’m desperately in need of grace! There are so many promises and principles in Scripture I need to cling to. I must remember that I’m indeed a sinner, and the only value I possess is because Christ lives in me. The bad in me is me. The good in me is not me. I’m worthless in every way, incapable of any good, without the work of His Spirit through me. I’m not even capable of doing good in my own strength. I remember the song we sing, ‘His grace clothes me with power to do what is right.’ When I feel like obedience in not possible, I must cling to the verse that nothing is impossible with Him. I must remember that Christ knows exactly what I’m going through. He is the only One who can really relate. On my worst days, I can find comfort that He endured far worse. And on my best days, I can find hope that so much greater awaits me.

Maybe being a supermom is way overrated. The only moms I know who even come close are those who humbly and totally depend on an omnipresent, all-knowing, all-seeing, eternal, loving super God!