Warrior mom in training

Let me start out by telling you a little about myself. As a child, I was painfully shy. My mom has said I didn’t speak a word to my teachers or classmates the entire year of kindergarten. I never raised my hand in school and would silently pray that my teachers wouldn’t call on me. I dreaded giving presentations in front of the class. In college, I chose my major partly because I wouldn’t have to take a public speaking class.

On top of the shyness, I have always been a people pleaser. I remember a period of time when I’d ask my parents almost daily if I had been “a good girl” that day. I just wanted to make them proud. I still do.

I just want to live in a world where everyone is kind to one another, and we all ride around on our own happy little unicorns.

I want people to like me. I want to be seen as a nice person. I don’t like arguing with people. I don’t like making people sad or angry. I just want to live in a world where everyone is kind to one another, and we all ride around on our own happy little unicorns.

Unfortunately, that’s not how the world works. If I continued to only do the things that made others happy, I’d probably be a very unhappy person.

When I became a mother, I had to learn to speak up about concerns I had about my children. I had to ask questions I didn’t like asking. I had to speak up for them because they couldn’t speak for themselves. I assume most parents have to go through this process of learning to do things they don’t want to do, letting our personalities evolve into what our children need us to be.

But it was when my children were diagnosed with a variety of different conditions — from chronic ear infections to torticollis to ADHD to a brain tumor — that I was pushed so far outside of my comfort zone that I now don’t even remember where that zone begins or ends.

I’ve had to push doctors for tests and treatments, argue with nurses, raise my voice with insurance companies. I’ve had to nag schools for accommodations, beg lawmakers for change, discuss politics with people who know a lot more than I do. I’ve done TV and print interviews. Worst of all, I’ve had to speak in front of large groups of people. Gasp!

I’ve had to be persistent, even pushy at times. I’ve had to give up the worry that someone will think I’m mean or that I might sound stupid. Boy, have I asked a lot of stupid questions over the years! I’ve had to really put myself out there for anyone and everyone to criticize and ridicule.

During this pandemic, I’ve had to do a lot more of what I hate. I’ve had to ask people to make themselves a little less comfortable to protect my immune-compromised child. I’ve had to say goodbye to friends because they’ve refused to wear masks to protect that child. I’ve had to argue with friends, family and strangers about science and faith, and how the two can exist together. I’ve even had to force my children to leave their own comfort zones at times.

The past couple of years have been hard on all of us. I’ve lost faith in much of humanity, including members of my own faith family. I’ve seen how people who preach the ways of Jesus do the opposite of what He taught. I’ve wept over the lack of love and compassion in the church. I’ve begged God to heal our hurting world.

While I have come a long way over the past four decades, I’m still that shy, insecure little girl who wants everyone to like me. I’m still trying to teach that little girl that it’s OK to fight, that it’s OK if people don’t like her and that it’s good to be assertive if it means doing the right thing.

When you become a parent, you do what you’ve got to do. You do everything in your power to give your children a good life, no matter how uncomfortable it might make you. You just do.

And I would do it all again in a heartbeat to protect these amazing humans God has given me.