There is something innately drilled into the core of my being: EXPECTATION. Especially during the holidays! Whether it’s baking or hosting, going to all of the events, wearing Christmas attire or having a perfectly decorated home, I have had a crazy elf-like compulsion since birth to be Martha Stewart (except if Martha were Ina Garten). I want ALL Norman Rockwell, ALL the time… in my mind.
Reality, on the other hand, is an entirely different thing. Reality is the crazy number of hours put in and the guilt-ridden financial costs spent on hosting holiday dinners for 20. It’s the astronomical number of cookie platters you make for everyone you’ve ever met in your life and the devastation they’re not enjoyed due to special diets, eating vegan or gluten free. It’s the panic of going to every single function in the name of Christmas and never allowing yourself an opportunity to breathe. BUT YOU LOVE IT, RIGHT??? And like a wing nut, in many ways I do.
But oftentimes, rather than be filled with inspiration and the real joy of the season, it can become a quiet comparison– a festering comparison to the instagram Martha Stewarts of the world that are nailing it, leading me to question all of my life choices.
And the worst part? Even when I do get it ‘right’ and my life looks like a Pier One commercial for exactly 30 seconds, I’m usually let down. I can control everything until I can’t. People are late. There is weather. Health emergencies. Car accidents. Job losses. And the kicker? FAMILY. Oh, the joys of family! Don’t we all just have the PERFECT FAMILY???!!!
(People, I adore my family but we’re all so different we ain’t never gonna be Norman Rockwell. We’re more like you’re 12 year old niece’s watercolor version of Thomas Kincaid you bought at the family garage sale).
This year especially– being eight months pregnant, the expectation doesn’t stop at owning Ina’s ‘Cooking For Jeffrey.’ Following the baby forums online, every post is about “Show us your nurseries!” or “Look at my maternity photos!” The nurseries are adorably painted and themed, and– oh my God– these maternity photos are out of control. Many of these goddess moms look like magical unicorns with their fresh flower crowns, big bellies and ethereal see through robes, walking through rivers, so connected to Mother Earth now as pregnant women…
Having just moved from Washington to California at the start of my third trimester (and the chaos/reality/energy that comes with making major life decisions based solely on faith and trust), your expectations about pretty much everything are OBLITERATED.
When reality set in and the angels whisper-screamed, “We are well aware of what you want, Martha, but you might want to pray to Mother Mary about what you need,” it put things in perspective right quick.
We were magically taken care of in every way possible. Within a month, my husband had his pick of jobs, we found a doctor, we got insurance. Thanks to a young man my husband works with, we found a place to live for an amazing deal. It was an emotional rollercoaster of a month, and of course we still have very real and legitimate fears and concerns, but when so much is taken care of for you so fast, you trust the journey. You trust the angels. You’re grateful your friends made room at their inn, your donkey is a Mazda Tribute and you’re grateful to not be pressured with a Christ-child.
It has made me think A LOT about expectations… and how not a single one friggin matters. I kinda knew this already but I didn’t. Never to this extent.
What does motherhood really mean? What does ‘successful motherhood’ look like? What is a nursery? What is actually important? When all the popular and materialistic pregnancy bells and whistles of our culture are stripped away, as they have been for my husband and I in many ways, what does being pregnant really look like?
Maybe it’s not about unicorn maternity photos. Maybe it looks like stretch marks and duck fuzz…
Maybe we’re not branding our baby on Instagram or shopping for baby clothes at Ralph Lauren but we have a nursery! This is what it looks like:
The simplicity of having no expectations, makes what you have feel sooo abundant. It makes six bags of gifted baby boy clothes over-the-top exciting to put on our little girl.
It has me thinking about the holidays… Without money for gifts or the energy for the bells and whistles of decorations, dinners, family or festivities– things that aren’t guaranteed for my husband and I this year, what does Christmas look like now? What does it mean? Is it the worst holiday ever or does it still get to be Christmas?
Maybe it’s not about having your own tree. Maybe it’s being grateful for a night with your seester, who does have all her delicious and magical bells and whistles up this year:
Maybe it’s not about a table with family and all the fixings. Maybe it’s an old school shout out to the very first Christmas and what that might look like today:
And if you’re really stripped of everything you’re accustomed to, maybe it’s just the audacity and hilarity of a cat’s butt on your neck while you were trying to write a blog about Christmas:
I think it’s worth a ponder…
For me, once I let go of all the white knuckled expectation about the holidays and pregnancy, it’s been a relief. Suddenly, we’re no longer behind. We’re right where we should be. To have people around that love us is enough. It’s sooo much more than most. Every gift you receive becomes a free fall of emotional gratitude. And at the risk of sounding overly sentimental, the situation itself truly becomes the biggest gift of the season.