Do you remember when your kids were little? Those years from newborn to preschooler? When the days were long and you wondered how you’d ever survive? I don’t know about you, but I’m so thankful that those days are behind me and I can never go back to that time. Just thinking about it exhausts me. Two infants and a spirited preschooler—my blessings, my joy, my burden.
It's hard to put into words those first couple of years after the twins were born. When I watch the videos I made of my kids from that time, my voice can be heard sweetly cooing comforting words to my little ones during the rare moments that no one was crying or requiring something from me, a voice that masked the frazzled and anxious thoughts spinning around and around unceasingly in my head. Day after day, I gave my all to my kids so that they lacked nothing, and perhaps on the outside I seemed all right, but stress hormones pumped through my veins and untreated anxiety affected my every waking moment. I was a like an elastic band stretched to just a fraction of its breaking point…
Bone weary. I remember reading this phrase in novels when I was younger. What would it feel like to be bone weary? I’d never experienced it personally and found it an interesting concept, interesting until I experienced it myself. I remember the days when my husband was away at work for the entire day. For 16 hours straight I cared for one thing after another after another, not stopping for more than 5 minutes once or twice in the day to scarf down some food. I remember trying to rock both twins in the rocking chair while reading a bedtime story to Thomas after bathing, changing and feeding all three, frustrated that the kids were going to bed an hour late. I remember walking into a disaster of a kitchen after finally getting everyone to bed wishing I could just leave the mess to rest, but knowing that if I didn’t clean up, the babies wouldn’t have the bottles they needed and the following day would be a disaster. I remember standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes and bottles then wiping counters, sweeping the floor, and tidying up until 11:00pm, completely and utterly exhausted. I felt it in my bones. The heaviness. The fatigue. Bone weary.
Yes, the days were long and overwhelming, but was it all bad? Not at all. I loved being with my kids. I loved watching them laugh and play. I loved reading them stories and singing songs. We enjoyed walks and play dates and time with my parents. After coming home from the hospital, little Nate had an average of one appointment per week to follow his growth and development. My parents would come over and stay with Thomas and Emma while Nate and I went to the appointments just the two of us. These were my favourite days—spending one-on-one time with Nate, returning to the hospital of which I had such positive associations despite Nate’s arduous journey, and having a break from endless worry by being given the gift of peace and calm.
Several years ago, I heard a pastor discuss Matthew 25:34-40 in a way that was new to me and really struck a chord, and I hope it will offer encouragement to all the overwhelmed moms out there. The passage says:
“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invite me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
“The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’
Don’t we moms do all of these things for our kids? When our kids are hungry, we feed them, and when they’re thirsty, we give them a drink. They come into the world as strangers to us, and yet we welcome them into our homes and clothe them, and when they’re sick, we care for them until they’re well. Isn’t it amazing to realize that by serving our kids, by sacrificing our wants and needs for them, we’re serving the Lord? That all those long days alone with our kids as a mom—a role often looked down upon by the powerful and successful of the world—is not overlooked by Jesus? That He sees us in the midst of the chaos—our disheveled clothes and hair, the dishes piled in the sink, babies running around in their diapers, unfolded laundry piled on the couch—and He loves us, is proud of us and values what we're doing for Him?
I think many of us moms sometimes feel guilty that we’re not doing more for the Lord or the church, and we wonder if we made a mistake by leaving or limiting our careers to stay home with our kids, or maybe we even resent being home. Regardless of how much we do or don’t do outside of the home (because let’s be honest, not all of us are super moms), remember and be encouraged again by what Jesus says to us:
“The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’
So don’t lose hope in the hard days. You’ve got this, girl!
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