The Swing. Or, Guilt versus Grace.

[So begins a series of blogs on my experiences of new motherhood, many first drafts dictated onto my phone, since I spend hours breastfeeding, hands full but mind pretty free to wander. Now I'm going back and editing them, in an attempt to write more, post more, and to feel good by accomplishing something I personally enjoy. The following was originally written a couple weeks ago.]

It's staring at me.
Taunting me.
Daring me to decide what I'll do.

...The swing, that is. It's a great lesson in mommy guilt. If I put my newborn daughter into our electric baby swing and she sleeps for two hours, blithely swinging away, is that somehow "cheating" or ignoring her? Then again, if I hold her in my arms for two hours, am I making it harder for myself later, so she'll never want to be put down? If this sounds silly, you're not a new mother and you definitely don't have a swing in your nursery, winning a solemn staring contest. Guilt is a very powerful thing, you know. A serious force to be reckoned with.

I am no stranger to such slippery, tricky guilt; I used to be a hardcore perfectionist. However, in the more recent years of my adult life, I have learned to recognize this, and these days I more specifically describe myself as a "recovering perfectionist." But I have this child of my own now, and it brings a whole new challenge to that department. I want to do everything in my power to make sure that in the Nature versus Nurture balance of a person, the Nurture aspect of child rearing is done just right. Typical of many new moms, not just the previously-Type-A ones. Of course, perfect mothering isn't possible. Still, my heart doesn't really realize that yet, especially when my newborn is so helpless. I somehow think if I do enough on her behalf, educate myself enough, sleep-train her well enough, fill-in-the-blank enough, she'll get the absolute best chance at being a smart and well-behaved child. An admirable goal, but not realistic. I know, I know...

The swing continue to stare at me. It's so innocuous looking, with its cream colors and soft, puppy-head pillow. When I've (finally!) done dishes, plus eaten something, and then discover she has slept through it all, I am grateful... but then the swing seems to taunt me, "She needs more daytime stimulation or she won't sleep enough tonight!" Or, I cuddle her in my arms while she sleeps, only to hear it whisper, "You could have used me to complete at least one measly chore today. Your husband shouldn't do all the chores when he just wants to hold his daughter after work..." And the back and forth struggle continues. I see how silly and tiring this is, yet it's real. (Well, not actually hearing the swing talk to me, but you get my point!)

Thankfully, there's grace.
So much grace.

That's the thing with perfectionists: we forget all about grace. As a Christian, I believe that my salvation is through grace, not by what I do. Ephesians 2:8-9 says, "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith... not by works, so that no one can boast." What I'm learning here in a tangible way is that the journey is by grace too. Years from now, I won't be able to boast that my wonderful child is somehow due to my amazing child-rearing abilities. Rather, I will need to humbly admit that who and what she is all comes from Jesus. He makes beautiful people through messes and certainly through imperfect mothers! Not even in spite of them, but through them. Praise God. And He will be working on me too. Clearly He will use this child, as He has used many other circumstances in my life, to make me less legalistic, less fearful, and way more full of grace, especially towards myself. 
Amen.
 
Thoughtfully,
Ellen H.

P.S. By the way, there's a sweet little song that relates to this:

"Grace Alone" (Scott Wesley Brown)

Every promise we can make, every prayer and step of faith,
Every difference we can make, is only by His grace.
Every mountain we will climb, every ray of hope we shine,
Every blessing left behind, is only by His grace.

Grace alone, which God supplies,
Strength unknown, He will provide
Christ in us, our Cornerstone
We will go forth-- in grace alone.

My two-week old daughter, happily asleep in The Swing.