Just a Mom

This is not going to be a post in vindication of being "just" a wife and mother. There are lots of those out there in this blogosphere. That's not my purpose here, today.

A few weeks ago, I was talking to two kind and godly older women, who were talking about how terrible it is that women feel they have to do something outside the home to be valued, and how wonderful it is when they can be just a wife and mother.

I almost kept my mouth shut. I knew that they meant no harm, that they were trying to express their ideas of the importance of home and family, things that I think are very important, too.

In the end, though, I had to speak up.

"I can't say much about being 'just' a wife and mother," I said awkwardly, apologetically. "After all, I'm still a writer, and many days, if I have to choose between cleaning my house and writing, I choose writing."

From that, without ever saying it outright, one of the women in particular left me with the impression that to do anything that was not directly related to taking care of my husband, children, or serving the local church, was a waste of time and quite possibly sinful. Because I respect this woman, because I know she did not mean to be hurtful, and because she is over eighty years old, I did not challenge her on the matter. Besides, I know that I am overly sensitive in this matter. I feel guilty enough as it is when I let the housework go in order to indulge my own loves. Unfortunately, the conversation left such a bad taste in my mouth that it rankled for days afterward. Several times I caught myself defending my writing to myself, in my own mind, feeling like I had to justify my choice.

And that bothers me. Rather a lot, in fact, the more I think about it. I don't think I should have to defend, to myself or anyone else, doing something that I love that is not directly aimed toward my husband, children, or house. Does leaving the dishes for a day in order to write really make me a bad mom or wife? Is maintaining my house and always taking care of my family all that there is to me?

You never hear men say "I just want to be a husband and a father." You don't hear women say "I'm just a daughter and a sister." Somewhere along the line in our culture's fight against the uber-feminist notion that a woman has to work outside the home to have value (which in itself was a fight against the idea that women had no value at all and were only fit to stay at home), we've created this immense separation between two things. One can either be a working woman, or a stay-at-home mom, and whichever of those one does has to be ones life. No blending.

Apparently, if one is going to stay at home with ones children, that's all there is. Raising the children. Supporting the husband. Making the meals. Washing the laundry. Cleaning the house. Washing dishes. Etc, etc. And (so we are told), those things give us value. Those are the most important things we can be doing with our lives. We need not feel envy of those Other Women who have careers, because what we are doing is so Very, Very Good.

And it is. It is very good. But it's not all there is. And I am trying not to feel guilty anymore when I have to confess to people that I don't want that to be my entire life. That sometimes I let my kids play by themselves so I can write. That sometimes I hold them on my lap while I'm writing, so we can still be together but I can be getting something done. That sometimes (often) I let the housework go. That occasionally Carl and I both wander through the house in a daze, barely acknowledging each other, because I'm plotting a story and he's figuring out something theological.

We're a happy family, for the most part (aside from things like teething issues, potty-training, traveling stress, etc). But I so often feel that I need to hide the fact that I am both a stay-at-home mom and a writer, especially since I don't have anything published yet and many people would consider it frivolous. I feel that "they" (that amorphous "they") will judge me for not spending every waking moment in service to my family. I read blog posts and articles singing paeans of praise to the stay-at-home mom, encouraging her that she doesn't need to have anything else in her life to have worth, that she is complete just as she is.

Sure. Maybe for some. I'm not knocking that choice. But for me, I need more. I cannot identify myself solely on my family. I am not just a wife, not just a mother, not just a daughter and sister. I am all of these things, and I am more. I am a writer. A reader. An amateur historian. A student of human nature. A quilter. All these things and more make up Louise. Try to take any of them away, and I am less than myself.

Ultimately, I am a child of God. That is where my true identity lies. Any other attempt to define myself solely by my relationships borders on idolatry. As Carl mentioned to me when we were talking about this, children grow up and move away; spouses may pass away; etc. When they are gone, what then? Am I no longer a person? No, I am always complete, because who I am rests in Christ alone, the unchanging one.

So no, I am not just a stay-at-home mom. I am many, many things, a stay-at-home mom being one of them, and I rejoice in them all.

What about you? What defines you, helps to make you complete? Are you able to find your joy only in your family, or do you have other interests that help complete you? What are some ways in which people have purposely or inadvertently made you feel guilty about your loves and interests? As always, I would delight to hear your thoughts, even (or especially) if you disagree.