It’s been just over two months now with my sweet baby boy, and God has certainly been at work in my heart in very in-my-face ways as I grapple with my new reality of being a mama and all that it demands of me physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
The truth is, I’m angry.
All the emotions I thought I had processed during pregnancy, I am actually having to face now that the little guy is here. All the ways I thought I had made peace with being a mom before I felt ready have come back and slapped me in the face– I was not ready for this. Not. at. all.
I was not ready to spend all of my waking (and asleep) hours feeding, burping, being spit up on, changing diapers, stressing that we hit all the milestone activities during waketime, making sure baby is not under or over-tired, rocking to sleep for 45 minutes for each of the 5-6 naps of the day, stressing over waking up the baby when he is asleep, and then repeating all over again 5 times a day and 3 times a night. I was not ready to dedicate my whole entire being and all of my mental and physical resources to this business of new motherhood. I was not ready to be deprived of basic needs to attend to my child’s. I was not ready for the selflessness this job demands of me. And I’m angry about it.
And of course God knew all that, and has been waiting for me to be honest about it. To be honest that I feel like my life has been taken away from me, my freedom and independence. That this “gift” that He’s given me doesn’t feel so very much like a gift oftentimes, but like a huge burden that is impeding my “right” to be a young and free adult. He knows that seeing my single and married friends without kids post about their fun summer adventures on Instagram creates a deep resentment in my heart. That they can’t understand what I’m going through, as much as they want to try. He knows the growing frustration inside of me, the fact that I feel tipped over the edge of my sanity at every cry in the middle of the night and the fact that I don’t know what I’m having for dinner anymore, or if I will even have time for dinner at all. The frustration at every small sound that wakes up the baby I just spent 45 minutes trying to get to sleep. He sees the panic attacks and debilitating depression, the terrifying notion constantly in the back of my mind that I can’t do this. That I can’t take care of my own baby. He knows the guilt and the shame of it, the paralyzing fear that I am not enough for my child.
I love my son. But I am exhausted. And I honestly can’t wait for this stage to be over.
I grapple with honoring and validating my feelings at the same time as not allowing them to excuse me from this role that God has called me to. The feelings are there and very strong and I have to deal with them, but they are not the end-all-be-all, and I do believe God will change them over time. As much as I want to escape His calling on my life and go back to the comfortable life I had before, I can’t.
So I will continue in this hard season walking in the tension of what I believe and what I feel, praying each day that God will help me to see His reality clearer and clearer, instead of my own clouded vision. And I consider tools that I have never considered before to help me along the way, like medication. I trust that He is still good, even though it doesn’t feel that way right now. And I thank Him for each small blessing in my day, even when it feels like the burdens far outweigh them.
My heart is being re-made, of this I am sure. I have to believe that this process that feels like death will ultimately lead to new life.
rhythms of grace 
Thank you for sharing!
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