Ready?

Motherhood.

It's a trending topic in the month of May.

Thoughts have been whirling around in my head about motherhood.

Owen was about 2 months old last Mother's Day.

My life had never been jolted so much than with becoming a mother.

I'm not sure I had ever wanted anything more than to be a mother.

I remember spouting it off to my classmates at the age of 17. 

And Jonny didn't need to guess if I was "ready" to be a mom just a year after getting married either.

But was I really ready?

Sure, I thought I was.


People ask all the time now, "Are you ready for another one?"
And I wonder what they think being "ready" would mean?

Are you ready to be needed 24 hours a day?
When you're tired? When you're sick?
Are you ready to put someone else's needs above your own, always?

I just don't think anyone can say they're really ready for that.

Our flesh won't let us be.

One day in May last year, I'd been at home all day (as everyday) with my newborn. 

Things had gone about as smoothly as possible with a tiny human who eats and poops continually. 

Not much sleeping happened in Owen's newborn months though. 

He's never been a fan of naps, and for the longest time, sleeping in general. 

It was a warm day, we'd stayed inside and made it to the 4:00 hour. 

Jonny wouldn't be home until 9:00. 

This was during that unexplainable period when babies like to cry hours in the early evening for seemingly no reason at all.
He had been fed, changed, swaddled, rocked, listened to music, 

taken to the window to watch the birdies and the tree branches sway. 

Nothing was going to make him content. 

I desperately tried to nurse him again and again just to see if he would be satisfied with more to eat. 

But he wasn't. 

And as I listened to his persistent wailing all I could do was cry myself.

I'd do anything to get him to settle down.

But I couldn't.

And I balled my eyes out.

I called Jonny and couldn't get any words out, he just listened to me sob.

I just needed someone to know I was on the brink of what I thought was the end of my world.

Really, truly, in my sleep deprived, not-thinking-straight, focused-on-my-own-strength mindset 

I wasn't going to be able to go on. 

With a few more hours of listening to the cry that makes your heart ache and head split at the same time, Owen settled.
I got him bathed, swaddled, fed and fast to sleep.
My head was numb from its spinning and my heart was broken from the angry and selfish thoughts I had had during the evening.

And there, laying on the couch, as all was silent and I started to fit the pieces together, the Lord showed me that I had been relying on my own stamina and few physical comforts to get through motherhood up until that point.

I had been broken in those hours.

Broken and weary and desperate and lonely and scared and so so very aware of my weakness.

Broken of self reliance.

Where do you turn in your weakness?
There is nowhere to turn apart from the perfection of Christ and the lavish love of the Father.
I have this hope.
That he who saved me, also brings me to and through each season of life, with every joy and trial, for my sanctification.
For my good and His glory.

I was told over and over growing up that I'd make a great mama one day.
And I wanted to be a great mama.
The one thing I wanted so badly from an early age, to be a mother, is where I consistently see my desperate need of Christ.
The sin of selfishness and pride, encompassing self-pity and entitlement, can so easily sneak up and strangle all the joy to be found in the good gift God has given me in motherhood.

I wasn't ready to be a mother in my own strength.
God has lavished his rich mercy on me in my many moments of failure.
And He has given me the strength for each new day.

Owen is a tremendous and underserved gift.
Being a mother is both a million times harder and more joyous than I could ever have imagined!
But the greatest gift of all is knowing, really knowing, that I have a sure Hope when I fall.