After I gave birth, I felt grief for the experience I hoped to have but didn’t. I struggled, feeling as though my fears of inadequacy were affirmed by my inability to have a vaginal birth. Every time I thought about it, I felt a deep sense of failure hit me like a punch in the gut. I still find myself going over the whole experience again and again, wondering if there was something I could or should have done differently. I recall the pushing and how with each passing hour the midwife looked up at me with increasing concern, shaking her head to signal that the baby wasn’t any closer. I sobbed the whole way to the C-section room, exhausted from a full labor; exhausted from defeat. And even though I have a beautiful, healthy, and happy baby girl, even though I know I should be grateful, and I am, every time I think of the day I gave birth, the tears come back again. That lingering sense of failure still gnaws at me.
Yet, somewhere down deep, the part of me that loves myself knows that this is not the well I am meant to draw from, this well of guilt, shame, and fear. I would never even think these things about the many strong women I know that have had C-sections, so why do I believe them about myself?
I hear mothers talk a lot about “mom-guilt,” and in only five months of parenting, I’ve learned just how real it is. After all, from the moment my daughter was born, I’ve known it. Not only that, but it takes serious effort to push it away and give myself grace daily. In fact, perhaps this “mom-guilt” should just be called “woman-guilt” because it’s not all that different in the other aspects of our lives, is it? We are kind to other women; we show grace to our sisters. We encourage our girlfriends; we empower our colleagues. And we mean every word. So why can we not treat ourselves with the same regard?
The story is similar within our ministerial contexts. Too often, we call ourselves unworthy. Too often, we call ourselves imposters. We struggle with feelings of incompetence and inadequacy. Our spirits make suggestions in near-whispers, too timid to embrace our true voices. We apologetically live out our callings even as we sincerely tell our sisters to be bold. Why can’t we choose confidence for ourselves?
Women, this is not the well we are meant to draw from, this well of guilt, shame, and fear. But there is a presence deep within us–call it Christ, call it Spirit, call it God-in-us. This is the presence that drew us to ministry in the first place. This is the presence that compels us to speak words of truth to our fellow sisters in ministry. And this is the presence that will empower us to live from a place of love and to believe good things about ourselves, if we will let it.
The Golden Rule is something we were all taught at a young age. We all know it as “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Sometimes, I think it would be more helpful for women if we were to flip it around and instead say, “Do unto yourself as you would do to others.” Because we desperately need to learn to be nicer to ourselves. To see what others see. To see what God sees.
Is being kind to ourselves a life lesson? Will it take an entire lifetime to learn to give ourselves more grace? For the sake of our daughters, I hope not.