Tag: Mothers

The days.

Motherhood is the absolute weirdest thing. When I first became a mama, I swear I really couldn’t see an end to the constant nursing sessions, the worry over the duration and frequency of my baby’s sleep, the continual state of fatigue. I thought I was miserable. I thought I wanted my life back. I’ve briefly mentioned before that I probably had some PPD for a few months after my daughter was born. I was not a nice person. My emotions were all over the place, the lack of sleep was just making me mean, and I felt like a milk-making shell of my former self. I vividly remember looking at myself in the bathroom mirror the day we came home from the hospital and literally jumping with fright because I did not recognize the person looking back at me. I thought I physically looked like a different person. It was probably a combination of post natal weight loss (I lost like 19 pounds that first couple of weeks after only gaining 14 with the baby), hormones, and residual drug hangover from the almost full-body anesthesia I received during my c-section. Whatever it was, it was the weirdest feeling in the world. I just felt like I wasn’t me. Those first few months were a whirlwind, but they also seemed to drag on forever.
I was thinking about this the other day, how each week was a milestone with a new baby, and seven more days felt like an eternity. Each week seemed like it brought so much change with her, and she grew so fast. Every week, every month, felt like a birthday. In the span of her short life on earth so far, a month was pretty much her whole life. It was like time was soooo slow those first few months while I was in them, but now looking back, they felt fast. It’s funny how we remember things differently after the fact than how they felt at the time. Is this some sort of God-given gift (curse?) so that we won’t remember how horrible it was and do it again? I’ve heard many women talk about this phenomenon. In John 16:21, Jesus says, “When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.” It’s always been a thing. When I got to the hospital after my water broke, the nurses were working on me and talking to me, and I looked at my husband, terrified, and said, “I don’t want to do this anymore. I changed my mind.” It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. No amount of reading, talking with people, learning, could have really prepared me for what I was getting ready to experience. I was terrified. And yet, women have been doing the exact same thing since the beginning. And they’ve had sorrow because their hour has come, just like I did. And then they forgot all about that when their tiny, precious human life is in their hands.

Not the photo that prompted this post, but I still look happy in this one too!

Anyway, this whole post started because I recently saw a picture of myself holding my sweet girl, who was only a few months old. If you had asked me at the time that picture was taken, I would have told you I had never been more miserable in my life. I was tired, I was constantly worried about everything, I hated breastfeeding (which made me feel terrible, persistent guilt), I had no clue who I was outside of feeding, changing, and sleeping. Sure, I loved my sweet girl more than anything, but I was miserable. But looking at myself in that picture, I’ve never looked happier. Now that I look back, I long for that feeling of being needed every second of every day. I miss being able to fully nourish my child with my own body. I was so happy and I didn’t even know it. I know that makes zero sense, and to someone who’s not a mama, it may be incomprehensible. But that’s what motherhood is. And I suspect it’s still happening. I said the other day that I know these are the “good old days.” I know I’ll long for these days again, just as I long for those first miserable moments of motherhood. Even though right now it feels like I’m dredging through the days, I’ll realize I was happy. Ugh, it’s so hard. Really living in the moment is so hard. Appreciating what we have right now is sometimes so hard. But if we want to live a joyful life, it’s exactly what we need to do. Choosing joy is the hard thing, but the best thing.

Edited to add that as I reread this post to publish it tonight, I needed the reminder. Sweet girl has had some especially rough days recently – she’s been obstinate, rude, forgotten her manners, yelled, skipped naps, gone to bed late… all the things. These are the days, even when they are hard.

Mom guilt.


The mom guilt today is real. I usually spend all day every day with my sweet girl, but the last two mornings, I’ve had appointments and errands in the morning, and she has stayed at the house with my mom. I work from home, and I always struggle with balance, but today it was about to send me over the edge. She, for whatever reason, didn’t take a nap. She laid in there for over an hour just playing and talking, and yelling at me every thirty minutes or so needing water or her blanket fixed or to tell me she loved me. I know she was having trouble sleeping, and I felt bad. But, I never truly understand how much I appreciate nap time until she doesn’t take a nap. My nerves were absolutely shot. I was trying to eat my lunch and get some work done, and just hearing her in there absolutely wound up was stressing me out. At some point, she wanted to get up, but it was like thirty minutes until nap time is usually over. I tried to explain to her that she had to just lay there and be quiet until it was time. She just kept yelling for me to come back, getting increasingly whiny and obstinate. You all, I snapped. I yelled. I stomped. I acted like a toddler. I had to leave the room and compose myself before I went back in. I scooped her up and held her in her chair. I told her I was sorry that she was having trouble falling asleep, and I apologized for losing my temper. She apologized for not being nice to me. And despite the fact that I was stressed about only having done exactly five minutes of work, I just sat there and let her lay on me. We both calmed down, and we just cuddled until it was time to get up. I don’t know if she was just feeling like she hadn’t seen me much lately or what, but that was what we both needed. This afternoon was the same old, “mama, will you play with me?” “In a few minutes, baby, mama has to finish her work.” Sprinkled with potty breaks, reaching a book off the tall shelf every five minutes, her handing me pretend paintings that she has “made”, and some general distractions. When I finally came to a stopping point with my work (I swear, I never actually finish) we went outside and played. That was nice, and I feel like we both felt better after that. Ugh, guys. How am I supposed to do it all? Be present, be productive, keep the house clean, the dishes and the laundry done, exercise, plan and eat healthy meals, read my bible, spend time in prayer, carve out time for my friends, spend time on my side gig, have “me time” (hahaha), pay the bills, keep things organized?? There aren’t enough hours in the week. Oh yeah.. and I should probably take a shower in there somewhere.. I’m tired.
Today had good and bad moments, like all days, but those bad moments sure did beat the crap out of me today. She went to bed knowing she is safe and loved, and I know that’s all that matters. But, I’d so like to do better at the in between stuff too. I’d like to set a better example of how to react to things. I’d like to show her love and grace better. I’d also like to pee in peace and have a nap. Mama life is hard sometimes. Okay, all the time. But the (rare) hugs and kisses make it worth it. The joy on her face when she does something she likes to do is worth it. The wisdom in her tiny little head is worth it. And the hours upon hours we spend reading books is worth it. She is so worth it.
Also, my husband is amazing and supports me in every way possible. He helps with the dishes, does most of the cooking, comes home and plays with our daughter while I finish up work. He is so helpful and I couldn’t do this crazy life without him ❤
On a completely unrelated and shallow note, my bed is a mess (see photo) and it needs help. I think the price of throw pillows is outrageous, and my husband doesn’t really understand the purpose of them. To him, they are just something that he has to take off before getting in the bed. But, you all, I want our bedroom, especially our bed, to be cozier and more inviting. Any tips?

Mom life.

In honor of Mother’s Day today, I thought I’d share one of my mom life stories… I wrote this in February, but this kind of thing happens all. the. time.

“When you slice the rest of the apple your kid didn’t eat, get a big huge bowl of Nutella, wrap up the apple you just sliced, walk to the trash can, throw it away, walk back to your bowl of Nutella and wonder where your apple went… ugh 🤦‍♀️”

Yeah. I thought pregnancy brain was bad. Mom brain? Probably worse.

This weekend has been full of people we love. Baby girl and I got to go to a baby shower, where she got to play with her cousins. We went out to eat with friends that we should see way more often than we do. We spent today with aunts and grandmothers and my momma. I’m exhausted, but my heart is so full. My introverted self, however, is ready for leggings and quietness.

Mother’s Day

Everywhere you turn the second week of May, there is something about mothers. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s wonderful to celebrate mothers and all that they mean. However, for so many people, it’s merely a reminder of someone they’ve lost or a reminder of something they want but don’t have. Mother’s Day is a wonderful thing, but it can also be a painful time.

I feel like I have a special sensitivity to the complexity of Mother’s Day. I am so very blessed to still have my momma, and to be very close with her. My husband lost his mom when we were in high school. My best friend lost her mother shortly after she had her son several years ago. My husband and I struggled briefly with infertility, and then suffered a miscarriage a year before we had baby girl. Having these events take place in my life, and affect those around me, gives me such a deeper understanding of others’ potential grief.

Before I got pregnant with baby girl, after my miscarriage, I started following this girl on Facebook who was struggling with infertility. I had never followed a complete stranger’s blog before, and had almost looked down on people who needed “support groups.” But another woman on my friends list kept liking her posts, and I would see them and immediately feel her pain. Almost everything she posted made me burst into tears, because it felt like she was in my head. She knew the cry of my heart because she was there too. This was my first real connection to other people’s words. This was the beginning of this blog, I just didn’t know it at the time. She wrote a post yesterday that I literally could have written, except her journey so far has led her to adoption, and I have been blessed with baby girl. Does anyone else’s pastor recognize the mothers in the congregation by making them stand? Apparently both of ours do. She and I could both stand, we’re both mothers now. But, she says she’s going to stay seated, and I love her reasoning. Basically, she said it was because we are to mourn with those who mourn. She and I both have a unique perspective. We both understand sitting there while others stand, being recognized for the very thing we ache to be, longing to be able to stand and say, “yes, I am a mother.”

For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to have a family, to be a wife and a mother. I can hear feminists everywhere screaming, but it’s true. Yes, I truly believed I could do anything growing up, but that’s what I wanted. I wanted to love a child, take care of a child, teach a child. I started babysitting at a pretty young age and never looked back. I started work at my neighbor’s daycare when I was 16, and worked there for eight years. When I left there, I was a nanny for a family for almost a year. Finally, after kids were no longer my “work” work, God told me I wasn’t done. I was asked to volunteer in the church nursery once a month, and loved it. Fast forward to now, and I’m in charge of said church nursery. Children have always been part of my life, and I am passionate about caring for them. Obviously, kids are my thing.

My point here (I kind of got away from it, sorry) is that we should take the advice of Elisha (link to her post in the comments- go read it, it’s so good!) We should rejoice with those who rejoice, yes, and celebrate mothers for sure. They are worth celebrating. However, we can’t neglect those who are mourning either. There are so many who no longer have their mothers. There are more than you think who are longing to become mothers, or who have lost a child. I’m not saying we have to walk on eggshells around all women, but we do need to think before we speak. That “harmless” question, “when are you and your husband going to have a baby?” can be so painful. I’ve laughed and shrugged my shoulders to that question so many times. “I don’t know” seems like the most honest answer when you’re trying, but there’s still no baby. Even now that I have a child, I hear all the time, “when are you having another one?” I cringe a little every time I hear it. And, again, it’s not that people are trying to be hurtful, they are genuinely curious or just making conversation. It’s just that after all we’ve been through, I’m not sure a) that I am ready for another one, at least not right now, and b) that if we try again, we will even get another baby. It wasn’t super easy last time. What if we struggle again? It’s so painful.

I think this is part of the reason for this blog: to share our pregnancy story, or lack thereof, depending on the year. Before I stumbled across Elisha’s blog, I felt really alone. The doctor told me that 1 in 4 pregnancies ended in miscarriage, and I honestly didn’t believe her. If that was true, why didn’t I know anybody that had experienced it? Why wasn’t there a plethora of support and shared stories for me to cling to? Nobody talks about it. After finally telling some of my family about our experience, I learned that my cousin had suffered a miscarriage before as well. Why does no one talk about this? I feel like just in the last year, spurred on mostly by celebrities, people have been more open about their infertility and child loss. I feel like it’s just now getting more exposure, and more women are talking about their experience. I want to be that support, to offer that solidarity. I want whoever is supposed to be reading this to know that you’re not alone. I’ve been through it. I’ve been the girl sitting in church, wanting to stand and be called a mother, but I don’t have a baby to show for my pregnancy that hardly anyone knew about in the first place. It’s terrible, it’s awful, it’s painful, it’s alienating, but it’s not just you, I promise.

Big stuff.

Yesterday baby girl walked from the kitchen all the way down the hall to her bedroom. Today she has walked as much as she’s crawled. I guess we finally have an official toddler. She also mastered the climbing wall on her swing set. Where did my tiny squish of a baby go?

I keep thinking I want another baby, but then I realize what I really want is her to be that tiny again. The thought of having a toddler and a newborn is just ridiculously scary. How do people do it? I’m genuinely asking. Like, when the baby gets up every three hours in the middle of the night, does the other child wake up too? I can’t imagine wrangling baby girl while trying to breastfeed an infant. Good gracious, it sounds scary.