His Love Endures Forever

Here I am again. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know the big picture. I don’t know God’s plan in this, or what His purpose is. But here I am, mourning the loss of another child. My fourth miscarriage.

I feel like my flesh and my spirit are at battle. My flesh keeps thinking “Does God hate me? Is He punishing me?” and my spirit is fighting back with the knowledge that God loves me, that I am His, and that all things happen according to His will and purpose. But I feel like this knowledge is just that – knowledge, and I’m having a hard time holding onto it as truth. I know the right answers. I know my theology. I know what I believe. But in times of sorrow it is so hard to move beyond knowing to truly believing and holding onto what is true. 
I feel like I am standing on the edge of a pit and the pit is calling me to fall into darkness, depression, and despair. And there seems to be one little string wrapped around me that is just barely holding me back. I keep looking at the pit and then looking at the string, inching forward and then back, my mind pressing me towards the pit and my soul calling me to keep holding on. It feels like the pit it bigger and stronger than this tiny little string. This string that reminds me I have been here before, that God was always there, and that He brought me through. He can do it again. He will do it again. His Word, His promises, His enduring love, is a life preserver. 

“If the LORD had not been my help, my soul would soon have lived in silence. When I thought, ‘My foot slips,’ your steadfast love, O LORD, held me up. When the cares of my heart were many, your consolations cheer my soul.” – Psalm 94:17-19

Rylie – January 2013

Rylan – May 2013

Jesse – January 2014

Elisha – June 2016 

I hope and pray I will never have to add to this list again. But naming the babies that I have lost (for life begins at conception) is truly comforting to me. Every single time I have named the baby, a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I have felt a sense of peace. It may seem strange to name a baby that hardly lived, but for me it acknowledges that this baby was a part of our family and a part of our lives, even if for a very short time. I chose Elisha because it means “God is salvation” and I am needing that reminder daily. So now every time I think of Elisha, I’ll remember God is salvation, just like every time I think of Jesse, I remember that God sees. And even though Rylie and Rylan’s names have no special meaning, when I think of them I remember that God is hope and peace. 

My God is a God who gives hope and peace and is a God who sees and saves. That is what the Lord has taught, and continues to teach, me through these losses. It is hard to say it or even believe it right now, but God is good to use this sorrow and pain to sanctify me and to bring glory to His name, and in ways I may never know. 

One of the hardest parts of this miscarriage is having Grayson, who is old enough to know something is wrong, ask why I’m upset and why the baby is gone. It’s really hard to hear him ask these questions, even harder to give him an answer, but it’s been a great opportunity for him to see what faith in God looks like during grief. I’ve been able to tell him of God’s sovereignty and that even though really sad things happen, God is still in control and He has a plan. 

I heard him talking to himself yesterday while he was playing. He was saying “The baby in Mommy’s tummy is gone. God doesn’t want the baby to be in Mommy’s tummy.” He doesn’t know or understand the full concept of this but in his child like understanding, he does get that God is the One who decides and that it’s okay. Grayson has hugged me and comforted me when I’ve broken down crying and he has listened when I have tried to explain, in simple words, what has happened. He’s been able to accept that “God doesn’t want the baby to be in Mommy’s tummy” (his own words, not mine) and I always remind him that God might give us another baby someday. It has been a bittersweet experience to teach him through the pain and sorrow. And to see him grow in understanding and knowledge of the good God we serve. 

This miscarriage has had so many ups and downs for me, as you can see. I go from staring into the pit to rejoicing that God is good despite my pain. Both are true, both are real. The pit yawns before me many days but knowing, believing, that God is sovereign, that His love endures, that He is good and faithful despite what I feel, and that joy comes with the morning, is what will keep me from ever succumbing to despair. He has given me so much and He has never left me. Never. He will continue to sustain me. All is not lost. 

Because…

His love endures forever. 

Teaching my Children to have Thick Skin

So many people today have such thin skin. We have to walk around on egg shells to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. We can’t speak out against something for fear of offending someone. And we have such a skewed view of love.

I want to teach my kids to be able to handle the bad things people are going to say about them and to them. I want them to be able to face a challenge and not run away in fear or go crying to someone to fight in their place. I want them to know what it’s like to lose, because the truth is, not everyone is a winner. They are going to hear honest and sometimes brutal truth from me because I want them to grow up with thick skin. I want my babies to grow into healthy, mature adults and not remain babies who cry about everything. They will know that I love them fiercely because I will encourage them towards holiness, no matter what they think makes them happy or what makes them feel good.

To further illustrate this idea, here is an excerpt from one of John Piper’s sermons:

In America, and in little circles where I function, love and how it gets expressed is in great measure controlled by how we think people are going to feel about what we say and what we do. America these days it seems to me, and I see book titles bearing witness to it, are a people, not entirely but in large measure, with very thin skins. Very given to feeling like victims, feeling like they’re offended and they’re wounded and they are easily hurt, and therefore it’s always someone else’s problem we can put our bad feelings on. Which means that the way we express love to one another and to people we might think need a tough word gets restricted because we feel ourselves held hostage by their bad feelings. In other words, if they can convince us by body language or by words or by lifestyle that if we say this then they are gonna feel bad and we say, ‘probably not the loving thing to say.’ So instead of the bottom line of love being a principle or a biblical rule or really what’s best for people, its just feelings. How are they gonna feel if we do this or say this? What I’m saying is Christians ought to be different from our culture. We ought to be different. We ought not to have thin skins. The church ought to be a place with thick skin. Why? Because we don’t get our significance and our stability and our security and our meaning and our worth from what people say about us! Do we? Do you? I fear many of us do. There is a constant temptation to want to be liked, to want to have people say nice things about us, we want to be approved, and to get all of our joy and strength from day to day by the echo of what is coming back to us in what we say. Bad news! That is bad, bad, bad! That is what human beings without Christ are. But we are different! Why? We are loved by God, we are chosen by God, we are forgiven by God, we are accepted by God, we are indwelt by God, we are strengthened by God, we are guided by God, we are secured by God, we are surrounded by God. He is underneath, He is on top, He is everywhere. What do we care? Or do we? Do we believe it, that’s the issue. Do we believe that who we are, where we are going, how we get there, is God’s thing, not the world’s or even other Christians? And so I just plead with you not to be apart of the cultural thin skinness, so that when some hard word lands on you, true or false, some ugly criticism, some slander, or some legitimate rebuke, you don’t do like the world. The world does generally one of two things: It shrinks into a little corner of self-pity and woundedness and ‘oh poor me, how could you ever do that to me, oh’ or it sues you for harassment! And they are both pulling from the same issue of thin skin. People who don’t have their bearings, who don’t have roots, everything is being governed by how you come on to them. Don’t be like that!

As a parent, I want my children to be happy. I want to see good things happen to them. But more than that, I want them to know Christ and to be holy. I don’t discipline my children based on how they feel about it. I discipline them because it is good for them, because I love them, whether they feel good about it or not. The discipline always hurts in one way or another and it doesn’t make them happy in the moment but that doesn’t keep me from acting out of love and teaching them that there are standards by which they must live. I love my children and so I discipline them, no matter that it makes them cry or unhappy with me. The motivation is that they learn and that their hearts are molded into ones of honesty, maturity, and integrity. I will not sacrifice that for a few moments of my child’s temporary happiness in doing what is wrong.

I want my children to learn to not live their life based on their feelings alone. Feelings can be valid, I can attest, but they alone cannot be the basis of our reasoning. I want them to take responsibility for their feelings and for themselves. I want to give them tools so that they know how to appropriately respond to how they feel, whether positive or negative. I want them to be okay with having their feelings hurt. I want them to be open to criticism. I want them to be humble enough that they aren’t completely broken down when people come against them. And I want them to be strong enough, thick skinned enough, that they don’t sacrifice truth for the feelings of others.

Most of all, I want them to know what real love is. I want them to love people by standing for truth, by pushing back against lies, against flippant feelings, and against this ridiculous belief that love is always consenting to everyone’s feelings. If they see a friend making a mistake, I want them to love that person well enough that they go to that friend and say, “this is wrong,” instead of saying, “whatever makes you happy.” Because in the end, real love wants what is best for others (now and in light of eternity), and not just happiness by whatever means possible.

Right now, my oldest is 3 years old. Eating as much chocolate as he wants makes him happy. I enjoy when he is happy but does that mean I let him eat large amounts of chocolate? No, because I want what is best for him which is a healthy diet. So that means I limit his chocolate intake even though it upsets him when I tell him he’s had enough. And one day, my teenage son will probably think that having sex with his girlfriend will make him happy. I want him to be happy but does that mean I give him a box of condoms and tell him to go for it? No! I will teach him how wonderful and powerful sex is when it is done in the context of marriage and I will encourage him to wait to make love to his wife. I will do this because it is what is right in the eyes of the Lord and because I know that it is what is best for my son. I know that those few fleeting moments of pleasure are nothing in comparison to a lifelong sexual commitment to your spouse. I love him and I want what is best for him so I will have those embarrassing conversations with him and I will enforce the guidelines that will be in place to help him abstain.

This should all be common sense and yet somehow we fail to translate this over to the rest of our dealings with the world. Homosexuality is against God’s Word and as such, is harmful for all. Yet I’m not suppose to say that because what about people’s feelings? What about what makes them happy? How dare I offend homosexuals! But I love homosexuals and because I do, I want them to find healing from their sin. I want them to know the Lord. I want them to know the freedom and grace that He brings to those who call Him Abba, Father. Yet somehow, I’m being hateful. I don’t support their lifestyle and I believe they are living in sin even though it makes them happy and even though they love their partner and somehow, this makes me hateful of them. But the truth is is that I want them to be happy and I want them to love and be loved, but not at the sacrifice of the Lord’s holy Word; not at the sacrifice of doing what is right. Repentance and forgiveness is what will bring them joy and true love; this is what is best for them, this is what I want for them because I love them.

I hope and pray that my children will grow up with this same view of love; that they will love others by staying true to God’s Word. It takes thick skin to stand on God’s truth and remain there in the face of judgement and hatred. I want my kids to stand strong so I will pray for their souls, I will teach them to love others, and I will thicken their skin.

Soli Deo Gloria

The things my husband doesn’t know 

But does now, now that I’ve posted them here for all to see. 

The things my husband doesn’t know about me as a stay at home mom.

He doesn’t know that I’ve started using dry shampoo because I don’t have the time (or the energy) to wash my hair most days. 

He doesn’t know that I let our son eat peanut butter sandwiches for lunch as often as he asks because I don’t always have the time (or the energy) to fix him something else. Or I don’t want to deal with the mess that other foods cause on that particular day. And hey, at least the kid is eating! 

He doesn’t know that I slept in pee this morning because our daughter’s diaper leaked and there was just no way I was going to wake the sleeping children to change the sheets, thus insuring that none of us would be getting more sleep. I need sleep and if that means sleeping in a puddle of pee then I’ll do it. 

He doesn’t know the roller coaster of emotions that I feel all at once every single day at every single moment. 

He doesn’t know that feeling that I get as a mother when I hear my baby cry but I have to leave her crying for a few minutes because my toddler is either trying to kill himself or getting into something that could potentially hurt him or cause a giant mess. 

He doesn’t know the irritation of having a big dog constantly under foot who behaves much like a child and doesn’t help with anything. At all. 

He doesn’t know what it’s like to have the pressure (self inflicted of course) of keeping the house at a certain, bearable level of clean while also not neglecting the children. 

He doesn’t know how much effort it takes sometimes to do even just the minimum that is required of me as a wife and mother. And even that minimum sometime feels like it’s impossible to accomplish. 

He doesn’t know how often I have to just shrug and say “good enough” because if I didn’t, I would be a psychopath and nobody would be happy. 

He doesn’t know how often I evaluate and reevaluate myself, finding myself lacking, and then fighting to remind myself day in and day out that I can’t be perfect, I don’t have to be perfect, and that I’m really doing just fine. 

He doesn’t know what it is like to feel like my body isn’t my own. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have a child (or two) hanging off of me, touching me, and needing me 24/7.

He doesn’t know how incredibly drained I feel at the end of the day. 

And he doesn’t know that all of this isn’t insane or just pure emotion and hormones. These things can’t be “fixed” or made all better when looked at logically. 

Maybe he does know how hard I try but he doesn’t know what all goes into it or how much of myself I have to sacrifice. 

And I know that he doesn’t know these things not because he’s a jerk but because he’s a man and he has his own role to fill that I couldn’t fill as a woman. I know that there are probably things about him as a man in the workforce that I don’t know about because I’m not in it. I get that. But sometimes I do wish we could spend a day in each other’s shoes so that we would better know and understand what it is really like. Because it’s not as easy or as simple as we think it is. 

Beyond the Costume

photo-2Back in November my favorite author, Ted Dekker, came to a church in Dallas to share his testimony and do a book signing. Having never seen him in person I was eager to go and hear him speak.

Some time after I received an email from Ted’s manager asking for the attendees to share how Ted’s talk had impacted us. I replied with a short version of my story. I came across that email today and it inspired me to write this post. Here is what I wrote:

Ted,
My name is Sarah Kerby and I am 24 years old. I am known as one of your diehard fans having read almost all of your books. I truly enjoyed seeing you in Dallas and having the opportunity to hear your heart and get a glimpse of who you are and why you write what you do.

What you had to say was very relevant to what I have gone through this year.
I am married and I have an 18 month old son. My husband and I desire to have more children and in January we found out I was pregnant. I lost that baby a few weeks later. In May I was pregnant again! But, just like last time, I lost the baby a few weeks later. It was utterly devastating. Tests have been done but there is nothing physically wrong with me that would lend reason and answers to why I had two consecutive miscarriages after having a healthy child. It’s a mystery, as so many things are.
In between my two miscarriages the Lord was working on my heart in an extreme way. I finally sought Christian counseling for the anger and depression issues that I had had for so long. It was a humbling and cleansing experience.
All that to say that the Lord has shown me an immense amount of grace. He has taken me beyond this “costume” that experiences heartbreak, pain, sin, and wondering and has shown me an unexplainable peace that penetrates my soul. There is more beyond this life that we live day to day. We forget who we are, always, but then God sends a reminder. He has done that a lot this year and He did that through you and what you shared.
I thank the Lord that He has chosen to speak through you and that He has given you such an amazing gift. Thank you for sharing it with all of us.
Faithful reader,
Sarah

Since that email I have lost a third pregnancy. And now I’m at a point in my life where the future of my family isn’t so clear. After three consecutive miscarriages I feel like we’re at a crossroads. What do we do now? Do we stop getting pregnant or keep trying to have a healthy pregnancy? What is the Lord’s will in this?

My doctor is going to be running more tests and we’re going to be praying about what the Lord wants us to do next but right now, in the unknown, I am at peace. I’m at peace because there is more to life beyond this costume. I’m just here playing a part that God created. This body that makes up Sarah Kerby is just my costume. The roles that I play, the experiences that I live, and the choices I make are just one small part in the greater drama that is the Gospel, that is God’s divine plan.

It’s not that my struggles don’t matter. They do matter. They are real. But there is more to life than this alone. There is more to life than fulfilling the dreams of Sarah Kerby. There is more to life than doing what makes Sarah Kerby happy.

I have this soul that is in dwelt by God Himself. And it is my soul that says, amidst the feelings of my costume,  that “it is well.”

My costume says, “God must not love me since he’s taken three babies away from me.” But my soul says, “I don’t deserve God’s love and yet He extended His grace and gave me a son.”

Beyond the costume. That is where I look when all seems lost and things don’t make sense. The costume confines but the soul is free. The soul knows that this body and this life is just a costume and that I am meant for much more than this.

My costume has always desired to have many children. I dreamed of having a big family. But my soul knows that the Lord is sovereign over that dream. I can let go of that dream because my soul is content with God’s purpose for my costume and ultimately, my soul itself. I may yet see that dream, maybe not biologically or maybe not at all, but I am at peace. I am not my costume. I am my soul. And my soul belongs to God. In belonging to God, I have nothing to fear. Not death, not unhappiness, not suffering, not future unknowns. I can rest here, now, in all of this, because I know Jesus and Jesus has set me free. I am not bound to this world. I am not bound to this costume. I am bound to Christ, to His unfailing love, and to His grace which carries me through life until He calls my soul home.

The following song written by Horatio Spafford is, for me, the perfect way to end. I cry every time I sing this song as I’m sure Mr. Spafford did as well. He wrote this song during his own personal tragedy and it wonderfully expresses the anguish of pain and loss of our costumes as well as the deep spiritual strength, gratitude, and humility of the rescued soul.

When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
What ever my lot you have taught me to say
It is well, it is well with my soul

Though the devil will ruin, though trials may come
Let this blessed assurance control
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate
And He shed His own blood for my soul

It is well, with my soul
It is well, it is well with my soul

My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought
My sin not in part but the whole
Is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, oh my soul

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!

And Lord haste the day when my faith shall be sight
And the clouds be rolled back as a scroll
The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend
Even so, it is well with my soul

It is well with my soul
It is well, it is well with my soul

A Peace that Surpasses all Understanding

If you read my post, When the Unexpected Happens, then you know that as a result of my second miscarriage my doctor was performing blood work to see if there was a medical reason for the recurring miscarriages. I received the results of the blood work today and all the tests came back normal. My doctor said that according to the blood work there is no medical reason for my miscarriages.

A part of me was hoping that something would come back abnormal so that I had a reason, an answer, to why I’ve had two miscarriages in a row. If there was a problem then it could be addressed. But there isn’t a problem and I have no answers. I’m not disheartened though. The Lord has given me peace that surpasses all understanding and has strengthen my faith and trust in Him. Thinking about His sovereignty and goodness brings tears to my eyes. I surely could not survive this heartache without Him. Because even though I am at peace the pain is still real and it is still felt. I still grieve.

There is evidence of that everywhere. The evidence hangs around my neck in three little charms that remind me of my babies.

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The evidence is in my home where I put up a memorial of sorts. It’s like having them at home with us. It shows that they, at some point, no matter how small or how short, existed and were a part of our family.

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The evidence is in the graphics that I have made as a way to express my grief. When I make these things it helps me feel close to them and it brings healing.

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Even though I grieve, I am at peace and I have faith. I am able to have joy through the pain because I know without a doubt that God is sovereign and that His will is infinitely better than my own. Though there is pain and sorrow in this life there is also hope for those whose lives belong to the Lord. This is not all there is and this is not the end. Me and my family are in God’s hands and that is the best place to be. Whether I get pregnant again and whether I carry to full term is completely and totally up to the Lord. My hope is not found in medical science (though the Lord can certainly work through that) but rather my hope is found in the One who created me, who understands all mysteries, and who forms with His hands the children He gives me.

“Our God is in the heavens and He does whatever He pleases.” Psalm 115:3

When the Unexpected Happens

Back in January of this year I had a miscarriage. It was a devastating experience. But then in May, on my son’s birthday, we found out that we were expecting again! I was overjoyed! I was certain that this was God restoring what we had lost. I was so full of hope. 316312_10151434920735897_188035758_n

But then I started spotting. I was crushed. I cried in fear of facing another loss. Then the spotting went away and I thought that it was nothing. Some bleeding can be normal during early pregnancy so I didn’t throw out all hope yet. But then on Tuesday I started bleeding and this time it didn’t stop. I went to the doctor and a sonogram showed a gestational sac measuring 5 weeks when I was suppose to be 7 weeks. It was playing out just like last time. They took my blood and had me return two days later to draw more blood and compare my hormone levels. Since Monday was Memorial Day I had to wait a long weekend before getting the results. I never had any cramping and the bleeding was never as heavy as it was last time. I was very hopeful that everything would turn out okay. I was even more convinced of this when the bleeding became very light on Monday and by Tuesday it was completely gone. I thought for sure that it was some random bleeding caused by something other than a miscarriage. I was certain that when I got the results from my blood work on Tuesday that I would receive good news.

I was laying in bed playing with Grayson when I got the call. The words I heard on the other end of the phone made my heart drop into my stomach and all my hope came crashing down. My hormone levels had decreased. The doctor would follow up with me at my appointment next Monday.

I didn’t know what to say. The nurse was so matter of fact, no remorse or sympathy in her voice, and I thought, “Is that all?” But what could she say? My levels had gone down which meant a miscarriage had taken place. A second baby gone.

I was so sure this baby was our restoration. I had so much hope. I don’t know how to communicate just how hopeful I was. Having this second miscarriage was unthinkable and, in my mind, not probable.

I had my follow up appointment today and during the sono I was told that everything had passed but when I saw my doctor she said there was a small area of what could be tissue or the sac (though she said it didn’t look like a sac) that is still in the uterus. She wasn’t concerned and didn’t feel that I needed to rush for a D & C or anything. She said that we’d just watch it and see if it will pass on it’s own. She explained that she wanted to run blood work and tests to see if there is a reason for these two miscarriages. She used a lot of big and weird sounding words that I have no clue how to spell but basically there could be some antibodies that could be interfering with healthy implantation. So they took a bunch of blood (ouch!) and are running tests to see what comes up. If I have an abnormal result she said that the minute I get a positive pregnancy test they will provide me with shots to give myself everyday throughout my pregnancy. I can’t remember what they are called (they are not progesterone shots) but she said they are tiny shots you inject into the skin of your stomach and they have proven to help keep pregnancy viable. She said even if all the tests came back normal she would still recommend that I do the shots because they can only help. So as sad and as heartbreaking as this is there is hope, by God’s grace and the help of medical guidance, that my next pregnancy will last.

Kyle and I have named this baby Rylan. I’m going to get two charms this time to add to my necklace. One will say “Rylie” and the other will say “Rylan.” I am thankful for them both and praise God that He is loving, faithful, and sovereign over my life and the lives of my children. In circumstances like these we ask “why?” Why would God allow this to happen? I have wondered the same thing. I don’t have any answers but I do know that my God is not cruel. I believe that with my whole being.

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My last miscarriage challenged my faith but this time my faith has only become more solid. God can give and He can take away but I will never curse His name. If it were not for Him I could not endure this heartache. I fully and completely trust Him and His sovereign will. I can rest in Him. I can find peace in Him. I can find healing in Him. He is my everything and I could not live without Him. He is so good. Despite whatever physical issue there may be that has caused these miscarriages God worked beyond them and gave me a son! I’m beginning to believe that Grayson is a miracle. Kyle and I both have been feeling increasingly blessed to have him. I lost Rylie and Rylan but Grayson is here, smiling at me, cuddling with me, and letting me kiss his face. I am so thankful for him.

My hope and prayer is that my next pregnancy will be healthy and that it will result in a healthy baby. My heart longs for that. But more than anything my heart longs for the Lord and His will. That I would know Him more, serve Him better, and be used by Him in whatever way pleases Him most. He is such a faithful God. He is so good.

Reader, I pray that as you take in my story that you would be encouraged and challenged. I don’t know what the Lord is doing in your life right now or what you are going through. But I pray that you would praise Him through the storm and the sunshine; that your soul would find contentment in Him. He may allow hard times to come but He doesn’t leave us in our sorrow. There is hope in our sovereign God.

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Being a Student at Motherhood

*This is an old post from my personal blog written in 2012.*

 

Lately I have been thinking about what life was like before having my son. I can’t really remember even though it was only 6 months ago that he became apart of my life. One thing I do remember is that I was in college and for the past several years my life revolved around school. My schedule was set around classes. On the first day of the semester I would get all of my syllabi and write down in my calendar all of the things I had to do, when to do them, and when they had to be turned in. I had a nice system going. Everything was scheduled, predictable, and I had a good handle on what I was doing. I rarely doubted my ability to succeed in school. I was great at being a student.

Now I’m a college graduate and, more importantly, I am a mother. Being a mother is nothing like being a student (other than the fact that I am constantly learning). I sometimes doubt my ability to be a good mother. Am I doing this right? Am I missing something? Am I totally screwing this up? Am I a good mom to my son? I don’t always feel very confident and about every other week or so I come to the end of myself. I lose my patience and feel like I can’t do this anymore. I always feel so guilty about having a breakdown but I know that I’m only human. No person could be all that a mother is and not have a breakdown every once in a while. There are many more to come, I am sure.

My life is just so different now. I can’t schedule my life a whole few months ahead of time anymore. I’m no longer going semester by semester but day by day. Heck, not even that. It’s more like minute to minute. I like to have a schedule. I like to be able to know ahead of time what is going to happen so I can plan my response or reaction. But with a baby, it’s all one huge crap shoot. I wish Grayson came with a manuel that was specific just to him. That would make things so much easier and I would never feel lost or like a failure. Things weren’t meant to be that easy though.

There is nothing else quite as humbling as being a mother. There is nothing else that will bring you to the end of yourself quicker. There is nothing that could make you feel more guilty, more crazy, or more exhausted than being a mother. This is hard work. But if it weren’t hard, I wouldn’t grow. I wouldn’t become better and the work wouldn’t mean as much. I wouldn’t become more holy because I wouldn’t need to seek Jesus. That is what I need to do more often: seek Jesus. Without Him, I can’t do this.

I graduated Cum Laude. I was a good student. Now, I’m trying to be a good student at motherhood. I’m not sure how well I’m doing but my son smiles at me and loves being held by me so I guess I’m not doing too bad. There is much room for improvement though and maybe by the time Grayson is a father I’ll have some of this figured out. I’ll never become the perfect mother I want to be and the sooner I become okay with that the better. I need to remind myself that my focus needs to be on glorifying God in motherhood and caring for my son in a way that pleases Him. He has called me to be a mother to Grayson. He chose me. With His strength, wisdom, and guidance, I can do this.