Life Is Hard When Your Kids Are Tiny

Life is so hard when your kids are tiny. It feels like one more sleepless night ‘til you’re certifiably nutso. We had three kids in three years. So, not to brag, but I have an honorary doctorate in Nutso Studies from the University of Hard Knocks.

In those early mom-days, I remember looking around at “normal” moms, who were talking about working out or avoiding gluten or planning Pinterest parties nicer than my wedding. Meanwhile I was just trying to move the laundry to the dryer before it molded.

Years ago, I picked up a prescription at the pharmacy one day with a newborn and a 15-month-old. The pharmacist asked me to verify my newborn son’s birth date. A reasonable question . . . for a fully-functioning brain. Alas, mine was not. So I looked in her face and mustered all of my brain cells into a huddle. Those little soldiers gave it their all. But the inside of my head sounded something like this:

GUYS. What is Jack’s birthday? It was two weeks ago! Someone! Help! When are we? Thirty days has September . . . no wait, it’s February.

“February!” I victoriously exclaimed.

She stared at me blankly, waiting for more.

BRAIN! We need more. ::crickets:: HURRY I SOUND CRAZY! OK, let’s just start at the beginning, what number comes before 2?

“First!” Nailed it.

Pharmacist: “What year?”

My brain: Girl, we out. We gave you all we had. Good luck and Godspeed.

Me: “. . .I’m sorry. . .what year is this year, the current one?”

Pharmacist: “2011?” She said, slowly, possibly wondering if I was on drugs.

Me: That’s the one!

That season had me hanging by a thread. I saw my limitations like never before. I’d put in every ounce of effort I had, and I’d fall flat. The opportunities for failure and mishap abound in the daily trials of motherhood. I needed help from outside myself. For the first time in my life, my effort did not correspond to outcome. And it crushed me. But I grew so much closer to God in that season, because I had no choice.

“Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Rest? Yes please!

So I did. I sought God every day, throughout the day, as I came to the end of myself constantly. And it changed everything. I’d always said I was a Christian, but didn’t really rely on God for daily needs, just for eternity. Apparently that kind of Christianity is not a thing. Oops.

If you’re a mama of teeny tinies, and you feel like you’re going nutso? Can I encourage you? The God of the universe wants you to ask Him for help. And He loves you so tenderly, even more perfectly than you love those tiny bundles of squishy cheeks and curls.

Also, you need to know that it gets sooooo much better. 1,000 times! Those little bobble heads that spit up and blow out diapers, painting the car seat yellow? Soon they’re going to make up hilarious jokes and comfort you when you’re sad and one day they’ll even put on their own pants. It is coming. I promise. And then, we will wish back the days of bald bobble head babies whose T-Rex arms are powerless to stop us from kissing their puffy cheeks.

Motherhood: a great enigma, an incredible gift. We wouldn’t trade it for nothin’. Even all those brain cells we’ve lost along the way.

*via @Molly DeFrank