We all experience the feeling of failure at some point in life. No one wakes up, looks in the mirror and say’s: I’m going to fail at life today. Like it or not each and every one of us is subjected to this awful feeling. The one good thing about the feeling of failure, besides its ability to teach us something, is it favors no one, it goes after no particular demographic, race or religion. You aren’t alone.
My life is rather simple. A stay-at-home mom, two kids and an amazing man that supports all four of us. I spend most of my days cleaning, cooking, folding laundry and keeping tiny hands out of the toilet bowl. Even as a stay-at-home parent, I experience moments in which I feel like a failure. Shortly after having my daughter I hopped on the emotional roller-coaster, any parent who’s child stayed in the hospital can relate, it took me some time to recover from the tragic birth of our daughter.
I would toss and turn at night feeling as if I was failing as a parent and blamed myself for months that our daughter was born nine-weeks early. Though family, friends and even my doctor attempted to reassure me there was nothing I could have done to cause this, I couldn’t help but feel at fault. My daughter; two-pounds, transparent skin, on life support, bleed in her brain, heart defects and early stages of Retinopathy of prematurity (ROP). If I carried her just a few weeks longer, she wouldn’t be suffering.
I will never forget the day I went into labor. I will never forget the emptiness I felt seeing my child so sick and lifeless at one point. I will never forget the rocking chair our nurse kept tucked by her incubator for me with a pillow and soft blanket, my bed. I will never forget watching her monitor go blank and a group of nurses, doctors and respiratory therapists rushing to her incubator and by the grace of God, saved her life.
Those moments in a way haunted my thoughts, even after leaving the hospital with my daughter. As she grew and began to gain weight my days grew easier. But with every visit back to the hospital and not so great doctors visits I was reminded that our baby, who at times seemed perfectly normal, healthy and showed little signs of being premature, was still indeed a preemie.
I look back and still cry at times thinking of how far she’s come- I also still have my moments where I blame myself, though I do believe in God’s plan and perfecting timing for things.
Mya, my daughter wasn’t born early by mistake. She came into this world to challenge me, change me, renew my heart. Through the grace of God himself she showed me what true faith was. There were times we nearly lost her but she never gave up.
So the days I feel like a failure, God reminds me I have a purpose and it’s not to be perfect but to love my children, to raise them and to be the very best mother he is training me up to be. Over the past year I have learned it’s okay to allow yourself to feel, whether you’re feeling happy, sad or just having an off day, it’s okay. Life always continues on.
I’d love to hear from all the preemie/ hospital moms out there, comment below so we can connect with each other!