To the Mom Parenting in Pain: I See You

Source: Anthony Tran/Unsplash

We’re approaching the celebration of yet another Mother’s Day. Folks are planning their menus and buying cards, gifts, flowers, and other special things. Yet each year, this day can be another reminder for many of us of how hard it can be when faced with a chronic illness or painful condition, caring for a child with special needs, parenting with a disability, or grieving a loved one.

This day is often chock-full of expectations and emotions. If you’re anything like me, you can forget to give yourself credit for accomplishing the Herculean task of raising little humans while juggling all the other hard life circumstances that come your way. It’s okay. I see you.

The “spoon theory” and caregiving

Writer Christine Miserandino developed something called “spoon theory_[1]” in 2003 to explain how having lupus impacts her ability to perform daily tasks. “People with chronic pain,” she says, “start each day with a set number of proverbial spoons, each one representing the physical and mental energy it takes to complete a daily task or activity. Smaller tasks, like showering or getting dressed, may cost only one spoon, while larger tasks, like cooking or vacuuming, may take three or four spoons. On days with increased pain, even smaller tasks may require multiple spoons.”

Pain comes in many forms. Physical pain. Emotional pain. Spiritual and existential pain. Pain of any type requires us to call upon energy reserves to get through each day, and motherhood is one of those multitasking endeavors that requires more emotional resources than many folks realize.

Grieving a recently deceased loved one? One spoon. Working through a toddler meltdown? Two spoons. Trying to clean the house amidst a pain flare, with guests arriving by evening? Three additional spoons. Putting on that chipper “game face” for when guests arrive might utilize the last spoons in our daily arsenal, and we might end up borrowing from the next day’s set of spoons just to make it through the evening.

As a mom with chronic musculoskeletal pain, parenting two teenagers—one of whom has challenging behavioral needs—I have to remind myself over and over, “You’re doing great. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.” Still, it’s a challenge to not feel lulled into all the cultural expectations that arise whenever occasions like Mother’s Day roll around. We don’t want to let our friends and family down. It can be hard for others to know just how impacted we might be at any particular time, and this can have an impact on our mental, emotional, and physical bandwidth.

Pain can be unpredictable

Being in any kind of pain can be exhausting. We find ourselves having to manage our daily activities to accommodate and anticipate the waxing and waning of our pain and/or grief. Some days are great. Others, not-so-great.

We may find ourselves having to carefully manage our family’s lives to accommodate and anticipate our fluctuating needs, and it can be challenging to prioritize rest, sleep, and self-care without feeling conflicted. The cultural expectations of motherhood typically don’t consider the real-life physical and emotional circumstances that are always at play.

Life can be unpredictable. Grief, pain, and feelings in general are unpredictable. It can be next to impossible to predict when flares arise, and these can come in waves. Grief. Sadness. Anger. Sorrow. Frustration. All these feelings are totally normal, but it’s so easy to forget this.

Trust me, it’s okay

Caregiving is truly the only role where I can’t take off one hat completely before donning another one. This can present a challenge—especially on days we’re expected to feel “celebratory” and we’ve got a finite set of spoons.

Yet my role as an interfaith hospital chaplain reminds me daily that pain in all its forms is part of the human condition. It’s an exquisite reminder of our fragile humanity—which we, as caregivers, are humble stewards of.

Pain in all its forms can serve as a message to take notice. To listen to the stirrings that arise within us which beckon for introspection, courage, and commitment to living and loving fully with our imperfect lives, in an imperfect world.

Our children and those in the spaces we inhabit will always learn more from our examples than from what we say. Practicing self-compassion is the best way to show them that it truly is okay to be human. To stumble along. To struggle and to get back up. To begin again and to rest. To feel what we feel—sadness and grief, wonder and hope, contentment and joy. To know that it’s okay to be imperfect because we’re all just doing our best with what we have. And that’s okay.