When You're Momma-Ed Out

Growing up, I knew I wanted a family, but my main priority wasn’t to be a mom. In fact, it never crossed my mind to be a stay-at-home mom.

I said I wanted 4 kids, but that was mostly because I didn’t have siblings. I decided, really, I wanted 2.

Babysitting wasn’t a job I really ever did. There was one summer, I watched a two year old for a few weeks, but that was really the extent of the babysitting gig.

There are some girls, even as a child, you know will be moms. That will be their job. I wasn’t one of them. I’m still not…

BUT, right next to wife, one of my favorite titles is “Momma.”

We were married six years before we had our first child, but eighteen months before that we began the journey to becoming parents. I didn’t expect to encounter troubles or have to wait so long. I certainly didn’t expect to be so heartbroken at the possibility of not being able to have children. But when the Lord draws your heart in a specific direction, you go there. All in. When we decided it was time to start having kids, I wanted nothing more than to be a momma. I didn’t care what the cost was: no matter the testing, the sacrifice, the time…it didn’t matter.

When our baby girl arrived, I turned in to a big cry baby. For a girl who never cried or got too emotional, I spent a lot of time in tears. Happy, joyful, proud tears. I couldn’t make it through a sweet book without blubbering (and some days, I still can’t). When I think about how quickly our girl is growing and how she was just a teeny baby three seconds ago, I begin to get sentimental, tears brimming. Our girl is precious, with a tender heart and just the right amount of sass. She is silly and she is sunshine.

I don’t want to miss a second of her growing up, and I’ve been constantly amazed at her intelligence as she learns new things. She’s a quick study, and more curious than any baby I’ve ever seen.

I’ve never felt guilty for working. It’s never been a way to run away from the responsibilities of motherhood. Instead, it’s been a way to showcase what it means to work for family, to showcase a piece of the responsibility of motherhood. Admittedly, there are days I would much rather be hanging out with my girl than at work. God has given me work that I love where I am able to glorify Him using my gifts. For that, I am thankful as it sets an example for my girl that it’s good, noble, holy work to pursue dreams and passions set in you by God Himself.

Make no mistake. While I love being Momma, it’s not all roses and rainbows. Some days are hard. In fact, there are days where I don’t want to hear the name “Momma” one more time. There are days where I just want to cry because I just need a minute.I’m touched out, played out, cried out, Momma-ed out.

I run to the shower early for some time alone.

I count the minutes until bedtime.

I take the long way home from town because it’s at least a bit of a break.

I cry because I just…I can’t…anymore.

I am so thankful I have a village that helps me, especially my husband. He comes home from full days of teaching and coaching exhausted. He comes home and just wants to stare, relax, hang out. But he engages our girl. He comes to my rescue. But I know there are days when he, too, is Daddy-ed out.

These things don’t make me a bad mom.

Those things don’t make him a bad dad.

Wanting a minute to just be me and not Momma is not wrong. These things make me human. They expose my need for my Savior, serving as a reminder that I can’t do things alone, and I , in fact, must face things things that I just can’t handle. These things remind me that moments like these will not last forever, and one day, this baby won’t want to cuddle anymore.

As she grows into a human, struggling to navigate her emotions and communicating what she needs at certain moments, I grow as a Momma. I learn each day better how to communicate what I need, to meet the needs of the good gift that is my child, and to not rely on my own strength. These days she clings to me most, relentlessly reaching for my hand or to be picked up are the very same days I must remind myself that she's growing into a human, and it’s my job to steward that. I don’t remember what it was like to learn how to be. However, it seems the days she struggles to grow into a human, I, too, struggle to grow as a Momma, and I’m Momma-ed out.

And, sister, that’s okay.