“Am I the only one?” is the question many a mother asks herself when she sees nobody else around her going through the same parenting problem.
On Sarah’s first day at nursery school – one month after her 3rd birthday, I handed the teacher a bag of spare clothes. I’m sure many other mums did the same thing, but here is the question: Why did I never see any other children emerging from their classes at the end of the day, looking like street urchins?
Most of the time, when Sarah wet herself, the teacher remembered that there was a bag with her name on that contained clothes for her to change into. On occasions though, she either had more than one accident in the day, or the teacher forgot she had her own set of garments to change into.
It was hard enough to see my little cutie coming out in a different outfit than what I had dressed her in that morning. She would have her lunch box in her hand, a painting or piece of artwork she had created in the other, and then, trailing behind her would be a little plastic bag with the sodden clothes, banging into her legs as she walked.
I questioned my pride on several occasions. Was I embarrassed? Well, there was no need to be, was there? What parent is so observant that they made a mental note of each piece of clothing my daughter had been wearing? Would they really say to themselves, “Ah, that little girl had on blue jeans this morning and now she is in pink cords.”
Of course not. So I settled my spirit and reminded myself to continue praying that the Lord would heal our daughter from this Diurnal Enuresis.
Everything went pear-shaped one afternoon when Sarah came out of class looking like a character from Oliver Twist. Being a girl, there was no flat cap, but I could imagine her singing,
“I’d do anything – anything to wear my own clothes.”
“You’ve got to pick a skirt or two.”
“Where, air air air air, are my own clothes?”
“Who will buy, my lovely long trousers? Who has bought them because I’m not wearing them now?”
I cringed. Never have I cringed as much as I did in that moment. The word, ‘cringe’ reminds me of a piece of paper being screwed up so tight that it almost becomes invisible. That is what I wanted to be right then when I looked at her limbs.
It was the middle of winter, yet she had been made to wear pale pink trousers that were as thin as summer pjs and had obviously shrunk in the wash. Instead of them reaching her ankles, they stopped just below her knees. The thinnest part of her legs are her calves, and besides looking like part of Oliver’s crew, she also had the appearance of a malnourished Hobbit. The ends of the trousers were so wide, they were the circumference of a tea plate and as she walked towards me, they flapped around her knees. To make matters worse, the urine must have soaked her socks because she was now wearing ugly brown ones, with a bright yellow pattern.
“What are you wear…” I began, then realised the last thing I should do is draw more attention to the attire of the one from the Shire.
But as I looked around the waiting area, several mothers were staring in our direction. Nobody was smiling – they all looked horrified.
I suddenly raised my voice to the highest volume I could muster without sounding mentally ill.
“Oh Sarah, you weren’t wearing those clothes this morning! Somebody has changed you into this silly costume! I have never seen those trousers before. Ha ha, as if I would dress you like that! Somebody has put you in these dress-up clothes. I wonder why they did that? Did they forget to help you get back into your OWN trousers. Ha ha, how funny!”
My hysteria didn’t work. I wanted at least one mum to say something reassuring so I would not feel so stupid, but they just grabbed their children and ushered them away as fast as possible.
I turned back around and peered angrily at the teachers. But what could I say? Almost 3 times a week, every week, my child emptied her bladder onto the floor and they were the ones who had to clean it up. She dispelled urine onto chairs and also the carpet in the Home Corner where she liked to play the most.
I made up my mind that the only thing I could do was to fetch a larger bag and write her name on in bigger letters and add a large tag to it as well. Then I filled it with at least three changes of clothing, and made sure there was an adequate supply of long trousers.
In reality, there are many parents in the world who are facing much more difficult and complex problems with their children and have received much worse care and support than I ever did. Worse still, they don’t have a personal relationship with Jesus and therefore, have nobody divine to pour their hearts out to. In the worse times of turmoil, I received, love, comfort, reassurance and peace from the One who knows how to help us in times of need.
He cared about every single little thing that bugged me, no matter how insignificant it may have seemed to others, or trivial.
He cried with me, laughed with me, and understood each frustration.
I don’t know how I would have survived those years without God by my side and my heart goes out particularly to single parents who also don’t have a partner to sound off to at the end of the day.
Folks, parenting is hard because life is hard. We were never promised an easy time, but we were promised that he would walk with us throughout the ups and downs. God cares about your children, because he loves them. He loves you too, and never intended for you to raise your offspring without his guidance and help.
Thankfully, my Sarah never emerged looking like a street urchin again. But I did have to pass on a spare bag of clothes to teachers for more years than I ever imagined. I’m not the only one. One day, when concerned that my daughter may enter high school with this ailment unhealed, the Headmistress told me in confidence that, “This problem is more common than you realise.”
And that is so true. All our problems in life are more common than we know and just because we haven’t yet stumbled across another person going through the same thing, doesn’t mean we are on our own.
God came through for us like he always did and saved our precious daughter of the humiliation of being a high school kid with a ‘spare bag’. God wants to help you too. In the meantime, be encouraged, because whatever you are going through right now, you are definitely not the only one.
