Motherhood is hard.

If I say anything about the stress or anxiety I feel within this current season of being a stay-at-home mom of littles, I am often met with responses like "You are so blessed to stay home!" "That's motherhood!" "The days are long, but the years are short." "Soak it up while they're small."  

Now, while I am sure all of these saying are true and well-meaning, they're not helpful. In fact, I would like to add that it just kind of layers on the guilt that I already feel for not wanting to homeschool my kids and not particularly "loving" every second of everyday. 

It seems to be common for others, including other moms, to make light of the hard stuff. Maybe it's taboo. Maybe it is just so uncomfortable to talk about, we just avoid it all together in the name of seeing the glass "half-full." 

I am beyond blessed to be a stay-at-home mom right now. I love my kids more than words. But, there are dark days and moments. It is a literal and figurative fight each day. 

Motherhood is beautiful and wonderful, but it is also a hard journey. This is simply a reflection of that. There is a battle of wills, battle of emotions, and a battle raging in my own mind many days. 

I am thankful for a God who meets me where I'm at and provides the comfort I need that no one else can give. I am thankful that each day is a fresh new start to do things differently and to learn something new.  

The Fight

“No no no!”

When one tiny word starts an enormous fire of emotion.

When the kicking

The screaming

The out of control flailing of arms

Irrational reactions

All boil over.

My heart is racing.

My mind is too.

Frustrated and tired

Looking forward to a break.

Sleep.

I’m sure your heart is beating fast.

I have to remember you’re just a small person.

There is no controlling your emotions.

There is no reasoning with your strong will.

There is no explanation for the acts of toddlerhood.

This is literally how God made you.

It’s a season.

A season filled with so many laughs.

So many tantrums.

So many tears.

So many frustrations.

So many memories.

I try to keep my cool.

To be gentle with my words and reactions.

But what I can’t help but do is cry.

I know you won’t be this little for long.

One day, you won’t want me to hold you in your bed while you fall asleep.

One day, you won’t need me for every single thing.

But in this moment

All I can do is cry.

I’m crying with you, a tantrum of my own.

It’s a fight, my love.

Everything right now is a fight.

From breakfast to bedtime, your opinion is sure to clash with the direction given.

You ask for help, then push me away.

Push.

Pull.

Push.

Pull.

Why don’t we talk about this part?

Why do we avoid the dark, hard spaces of motherhood?

It’s a bittersweet thing, this thing we call motherhood.

It’s smiling pictures and trips to the parks.

It’s anxious trips to the store.

It’s make-believe play and bubble baths.

It’s tear filled bed times.

It’s guilt for being angry, coupled with the exhaustion of being “on” all the time.

It’s guilt for not loving every second.

Yet, here we are, sitting.

Waiting for your eyes to close and your mind to stop racing.

For your little legs and little arms to relax from all the moving.

For you to rest.

For me to rest.

Here we sit.

You fighting the boundary.

Me fighting the feeling of failure.

Fighting for what’s best for you.

Motherhood: an excruciatingly beautiful, exhausting fight from beginning to end.