The Unexpected Gift of Motherhood
You’ve probably heard the cliché that motherhood is a gift—and it is, I’ve learned, but not always in the way I expected. Sometimes it feels like the Christmas I got socks and a toothbrush in my stocking. If it’s such a gift, why do I feel so bad at it? Is it this hard because I’m doing something wrong? I’m sorry, God, but maybe you gave me the wrong story?
During my first pregnancy, I envisioned our baby as sweet, healthy, and the apple of our achievement-focused eyes. Instead, we were gifted with a baby who struggled to nurse, who suffered from near-constant reflux, and who was eventually labeled failing to thrive. Yes, he was sweet to snuggle, and we loved him immensely. But the first year of his life was stressful. His mounting issues drove us to genetic testing, which ended with a diagnosis of a rare genetic disorder. As I learned more about our son’s disorder and our family’s future, I began to crumble under the weight of this loud, persistent message: you have no guarantees for a good, meaningful life—for you or your son.
All mothers face this reality at some point, in some way; there are no guaranteed outcomes for our children. Even if we check all the right boxes and make all the right parenting moves, at some point, the reality of raising children will fail to live up to our expectations and dreams. Thankfully there’s a God who guarantees his love and goodness for me and my family no matter what. The true gift is that God’s plan for my family far exceeds normal and nice—he dreams of how his love poured into us will be a blessing to the world, which makes our lives very good and very meaningful.
In eleven years of motherhood, I’ve weathered major geographic moves, job resignations, special needs, miscarriage, financial hardships, loss and betrayal, and mental health issues—stories not unlike those of many others. As hurt and disappointment piled up, I plunged into depression. In this mindset, motherhood felt not just daunting but impossible. I began to believe depression’s lie that I was worthless as a wife and mother. I stood at a road divided: One path was dark and hopeless, haunted by my failures, the enemy’s lies, and my own disappointment. The other path—lined with a good God, a caring husband, a compassionate therapist, and a community of people who loved me—called me to return to life. I realized then that I can be a mom and I can have issues. But I needed to take God by the hand and find my way back so I could fulfill the role he’s given me as my children’s mother.
We all have issues, flaws, and pitfalls to navigate. None of us are exempt from suffering, frailty, or setbacks, all of which can have a profound impact on our children, who witness most closely the lives we lead. I’m so thankful for Jesus’s truth: his love is wide and deep enough to sit with us in our suffering and to gently lead us back to him. I’m thankful that because of, and not in spite of, our failures, he is creating something good in us and for us. Out of the ashes of our messes, our children get to see the glory of God on display as he redeems us and our brokenness.
Much about motherhood is not grand, but mundane and taxing. Much of the work is quiet and unseen. In a culture that adores self-promotion, motherhood can seem self-sabotaging. If we’re not careful, we will place on our children the unbearable weight of validating our parenting by their behavior, choices, and successes. My failings repeatedly remind me that I am not good enough, kind enough, brave enough, or patient enough as a mother. It’s the job for which I’m never fully qualified.
Most of us come to the realization at some point that we are not enough. Isn’t that the point? Until we realize our limitedness, we cannot understand our need for God’s limitless love and power at work in us. Jesus invites us to rest in him, to come close to his heart and learn that even in motherhood, his yoke is easy and his burden is light. We are not enough, but he is making us into people who know his love and passion for us, which is of far greater worth than being the perfect parent with perfect kids.
It may have taken me over a decade to learn (and I’m still learning), but I am grateful for every way motherhood is bringing me closer to the Father’s heart. My heart’s prayer for all of us is that we can shift our perspective on parenting from one of frustration or dismay to one of limitless gratitude.
is a writer and teacher who lives with her family in South Carolina. When she’s not pondering words, she enjoys hiking, learning about natural health, and drinking the perfect latte. Allison loves to connect with others about family, special needs parenting, mental health, grief, and faith. Her writing has been featured on The Mighty and Her View from Home, and you can find more of it on her blog Writing Is Cheaper Than Therapy.
Photograph © Yianni Mathioudakis, used with permission
