On Becoming a Mother

This memoir is a reflection of my first year as a mother - mostly to process how I have grown and changed, but also as an encouragement to other new moms who may find solace in these words.

One year ago on Mother's Day was my first day of being a mom. As I held that tiny little newborn in my arms, I had no idea what the coming year would hold. I had watched my friends become mothers over the past few years with envy, wanting what I saw as pure bliss and constant joy, but what I discovered within the world of motherhood (while there were times of bliss and joy) was a Refiner's Fire, a Holy Bootcamp for the soul. Here are some things I have learned in my journey so far (for I know there is much more to come :)

Depravity and Brokenness
I am a sinner saved by grace, and I have *always* known that...but I also was a pretty "good" person - did the right things, didn't get into too much trouble and so I wasn't constantly faced with my desperate need for a Savior. However, once I was thrown into the world of motherhood with a very demanding, needy, screaming baby who refused to be consoled by any of my efforts in addition to being completely sleep deprived by night wakings and my own insomnia, the darkest corners of my soul seeped out...and sometimes exploded.

I experienced the poison that comes from letting bitterness and anger at God and others stew inside my heart. I battled with depression and lies of inadequacy, screamed, yelled, patted a little too hard out of frustration, bounced a little too fast in anger; I even felt the desire to throw my baby out the window and told Zac once to give her up for adoption because I couldn't handle it anymore (fortunately, he didn't listen to me). Of these feelings and actions, I am completely ashamed -  but by the grace of God, he protected her, and revealed to me the ugliness that he desired to purge from within me.

More than any other time in my life, I finally truly understand and resonate with Paul in his words from Romans 7:15-25:

"I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.[...] But in fact it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me.[...] I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.... For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!"

"At war" is a perfect expression of what I felt emotionally during this first year, especially during the first 4-6 months of Zoë's life - my sinful, selfish nature warring against the requirements of being a mother, which I believe can be summed up in the word "sacrifice."

The Road to Sacrificial Living
When Zoë came into my life, she demanded all my time, my focus, my energy and strength, even the very nutrients from my body. If I was exhausted from walking around and bouncing her, she would scream if I sat down. If I tried to go to the bathroom or take a shower, she would cry and scream until I was finished. If I wanted her to go down for a nap so that I could get some housework done or just have a few moments of peace and quiet, she refused to sleep unless I held her for the entire nap. If I put her down, she would want to be held; if I held her, she would squirm until I set her down. These instances infuriated me and I dubbed her a "difficult" baby, but I realized somewhere along the line that my anger was more of the result of my needs and desires clashing with her needs and desires.

The world of motherhood requires a mother to sacrifice her needs in order to provide for the needs of her child. Again. And again. And again. This road is not easy and has shown me the full extent of my selfishness, but it leads me to the cross where I see the example of the One who calls us to live self-less-ly: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me." -Matthew 16:24

In my weakness, He is Strong
During the early months of Zoë's life, I remember becoming very solemn in the evening around 6:00 or 7:00pm because I knew that another night was coming. The days I could handle (to a certain extent), but the nights...oh, the nights! I would cry out in my exhaustion, "I can't do it again! I can't do another night!"But I did, by the grace of God. Night after night. And thank goodness there came a time when my nights got a little easier (and now she sleeps 12 hours straight - hallelujah!!).

Zac wrote in a Mother's Day note to me, "God's wisdom and strength are what carries you through each day. Just like the manna in the desert, you manage to squeeze by each day." At some point this year I remember reading something Beth Moore wrote in a Bible study that struck me profoundly: "God does not give you strength. He IS your strength." I cannot do this on my own - I know that to be true. But if I depend on him, day and night, he is more than enough, and God will carry me through.

Lonely and Invisible - an Identity Crisis
Who am I? Really? This final area, a struggle with my identity, has been the most recent growing pain in this journey. As many of you know, the discovery that I was pregnant came as a very unexpected surprise and led to many drastic changes in my life. I was beginning my second year of seminary with Zac at the top of my class, working in youth and children's ministry at church and had professors encouraging me to pursue doctoral work in biblical studies. Zac and I went to class together, served in ministry together, hung out with our seminary friends together. But after Zoë came, I disappeared from that world - by choice, but somewhat reluctantly...and with quite a bit of heartache.

At first I thought it was because of the loneliness of being home "alone" (as many of you know, hanging out with an infant all day doesn't feel like much company), watching many of my friendships fade away as my schedule conflicted with everything they were doing and we began to have less and less in common, and seeing Zac have his own seminary experience without me. This loneliness was very real and valid, but I discovered a deeper issue hiding beneath the surface: I was having an identity crisis.

Up until that point, I had been a student (and a very good one at that), and a teacher, first a music teacher and then a Sunday School teacher (and I was pretty good at that, too). Then I stopped being both of those things, and I became a mom. And I wasn't very good at that. In fact, most of the time I felt like I was a failure, and that the mundane tasks of feeding, changing diapers, washing dishes and laundry were worthless. People would ask, "So, what do you do all day?" and I would just want to cry. I used to think writing a 20 paged exegetical paper was a big accomplishment, and now, it's a great day if I get the laundry done and take a shower! I fiercely struggled with these feelings of failure and worthlessness up until Zoë was 8 months old, when I realized the root of my problem: my identity was based on my accomplishments and the affirmation of those accomplishments.

 Because I was such a good student and regularly praised for my work, and a good musician praised for my talent, this unstable foundation of my identity held up and seemed secure. But here I am, doing the most taxing and challenging work of my entire life without (seemingly) anything to show for it but a bunch of dirty cloth diapers, a crying baby and a messy house, where no one really sees what I do day in and day out. My identity, which should have been built on the Solid Rock, came crashing down brick by brick, day after day, month after month, until there was nothing left and I had to ask myself: who am I? and what am I doing with my life?


I am a child of God. I am a daughter of the King. I have been bought with a price and redeemed even from my utmost brokenness and depravity. I am loved. Not because of what I do or what I have done, but because of who I am. And who I am is not based on what I do or what I have done, but is found in Christ. I am my beloved's and he is mine. And it does not matter what I do or where I do it, but only whether or not I do it out of reverence and love for the One who gave me life. I am a child of God.

One of my previous professors wrote me a note that was very timely and encouraging in the midst of this struggle: "Trust that the main calling you are pursuing isn't the calling to be a parent VERSUS the calling to be a pastor or something else -- it's the calling to be a disciple. And whatever shape disciple you are, so long as you're following close on the heels of the One who called you in the first place, you're heading in exactly the direction you need to."

I know God has led me to this place and time in life not only to care for Zoë and raise her by his grace into a woman of God (which is a very worthy calling), but also to do a great work in me and to refine me into the likeness of his Son, Jesus Christ. This past year has been a season of emotional darkness, hardship and heartache, but I can already see beauty growing up from the ashes within me. Here's to the second year, and the work God will continue to do!

To my dear Zozo - thank you for making me a mother!