The Jealous Mom

Once the motherhood journey begins, there are so many labels.

Nursing Mom. Bottle feeding Mother.

Working Mom. Work-from-Home Mother. Stay-at-Home (but people, she’s working, trust me!) Mom.

Tired Mom. Mad Mom.

I’ve been many of these, more than once.

Lately, deep down, I’ve discovered another part of my motherhood.

I’m jealous.

Sure, I envied the moms who could eat a banquet and lose weight, or the moms who threw parties and never seemed anxious like I tend to get. This time around, I’m not so much jealous of the other moms. I’m jealous for my kid.

There has been so much history with her that my husband and I discussed that the upcoming Chrissy Metz movie, Breakthrough, is so close to home for us that we don’t think we can watch it because it’s too close. Too much. She has overcome so much and God has used her time and time again. It has been amazing.

She is the age where she could pursue her permit.

And we agree the time isn’t now.

But it is now for her friends.

It’s hard to hear the parents talk of the accomplishment, and even the mistakes. It’s frustrating because our circumstances are cognitive and physical, but not visible. She looks like she should be out there on the highways.

But she isn’t.

I’m not jealous because I’m tired of driving her around, I actually enjoy driving and picking up her friends. Their laughter brings me joy and their music beats the Barney days by miles. I grieve because it’s another thing she has to fight against and overcome. And there’s been so much already.

Will she ever drive? We think so, and that brings new emotion. Guilt. Because I know not every special situation a family has is like ours. Their medical issues are daily and sometimes critical. So I hang between the balance of jealous and guilty.

Not a healthy place to be.

Although there’s one thing she isn’t doing right now, there is much that she is. Student Council. Participating in a skit with her youth group. Applying for a ministry within youth group. With all that was presented to us when she was a baby, there were professionals who didn’t think she’d live. When she did, they prepared us for mental retardation. When she started mainstream school, it was on an IEP. Now she’s in high school without the IEP, just needing some extra helps for health.

I’m not a perfect mom, that’s a label that will fit me. And while I’m not proud to confess I’m jealous, I can say this, I’m transparent.

A healthier place to be.