Pain & Our Babies
Since I am two years past my divorce, and close to five years past the beginning of the crazy downward spiral, my pain has been dealt with. The pain I feel is no longer my own personal heartbreak. Healing, time, and prayer have been there along the way to help rid that pain. However, the residual pain is different. It’s less personal and more channeled for my daughter. I feel pain that I anticipate her feeling because of our divorce. I feel pain when I think about how she was the innocent victim of two people’s choice to sin. I think about how she will feel if she finds out what I went through, what her daddy did to mommy. All of this hypothetical pain can get exhausting.
One of my favorite authors about all things self-help and overcoming hardship is Glennon Doyle. She was actually a huge motivator for me to finish my book. Anyhow, she wrote this recently about our fear as parents. It resonated with me and as much as I still resist the thought of my babies ever experiencing pain, I do see the beauty on the other side. And that is not all bad. Quite the opposite.
“I always feared that my babies’ pain was my failure. But if learning to step into life’s struggle is my warrior journey, isn’t it theirs too?
More than anything, I want my kids to grow up to be brave, kind, wise, resilient humans.
So what is it in a human life that creates bravery, kindness, wisdom, and resilience?
What if it’s pain? What if it’s the struggle?
The bravest people I know are those who’ve walked through the fire and come out on the other side. They are the ones who’ve overcome again and again - not those who had nothing to overcome. They are the ones who no longer avoid the fires of life - because they have learned that they are fireproof.
What if we are trying to protect our kids from the one thing that will allow them to be the men and women we dream they’ll be?
Maybe our job as parents is not to protect them from pain, but to hold their hands and walk into their pain with them.
If we want to invite our children to be warriors, we need to look at them and say: ‘I see your pain- it’s big and it’s real. But I see your courage, too - and it’s bigger and more real. That fire won’t burn you, you’re fireproof.”
Be encouraged, friends. Don't let fear bog you down. Walk in the pain with your children. Hold them, pray for them, hear them, and show them the beauty that can come when we let courage take over.