Last week, I had some rough days. The kind of days where you count the hours until bedtime. The kind of days where you forfeit hopes of any productivity and just try to get through.
As a mom, I do and don’t want to tell you about those days.
I want to be honest. I want other women to know that I get it. The constant responsibility of raising another human being? The inexplicable, bone deep fatigue even when you’ve slept? The need to just be alone for a minute? I get it.
Our society has developed an attitude toward children and mothering that frustrates and hurts me. It’s expected, isn’t it, that we talk about our kids as burdens? That we fill our conversations with negativity? That’s the norm, and I don’t want to perpetuate it.
The truth is that I don’t know how to balance those two things well. I’m not sure how to tell the truth about mothering but also tell the world that I wouldn’t change it.
So, I’m just going to try.
The truth is that by the end of last week, I thought I was having a panic attack.
The truth is that by the end of last week, I wanted to do nothing–nothing–but sleep.
The truth is that by the end of last week, I had spoken out of frustration to my infant daughter because I wanted to eat a piece of pizza without little grabbing hands.
The truth is that by the end of last week, God had met me in those long hours.
The truth is that by the end of last week, God showed me, “You’re doing it. You’re living what you have prayed for.”
The truth is that mothering is soul-changing, sanctifying, messy, glorious, blessed living.
Do any of you feel this burden to be honest about the hard parts but also change the narrative about motherhood? How do you tell the truth without falling into that pattern of negativity?