Motherhood can be a lonely season. But it’s important to know that as you transition into this new role, you don’t walk into an empty room. There is a village waiting for you. No matter where you are on this journey, your fellow mothers walk with you and beside you.
In this room are all kinds of mothers, in all stages of their journey. For a long time, I looked in the window and watched the women inside. I wasn’t sure I belonged.
This room is the room of motherhood. Once I walked through the door, I found there was enough space for me. In fact, there were women already inside, ready to welcome me with open arms.
Here, we all belong. The room, like a mother herself, welcomes and understands. It is a place where we learn together and support each other. The room mothers us, just as the women inside walk alongside us. In this room, there is space for us all.
The Room of Motherhood
Motherhood looks different for all of us. We are all on different parts of the journey.
Maybe you’re pregnant and marveling at the life growing inside of you. Once a week, an app on your phone tells you what fruit your baby is. Perhaps you’re so excited to be a mom. You can’t believe you’ve been given this privilege. You silently pray, “thank you. Please stay.” Mercifully, your baby is healthy and growing. You are basking in the joyful anticipation of the season.
Or, maybe you’re pregnant but hesitant. This life inside you is truly wondrous, but now isn’t the right time. You don’t feel confident in yourself as a mother. Still, you attend your doctor visits and listen to the sound of their heartbeat. Anxiety and uncertainty are stealing the joy from this season, but you don’t know how to stop them.
Maybe you’re walking through a season of loss, but it was so early you feel silly telling anyone. So instead, you grieve in silence, wondering if it happened because of something you did. Or maybe your loss was right near the end. With a name already chosen, your friends now look at you with a mix of sympathy and fear. Grief is heavy, and nothing about the season feels worth celebrating.
Maybe you recently brought your baby into the world. Now, in a fog, you’re up in the middle of the night, with blow out diapers and spit up and feedings where you fight to keep your eyes open. The middle of the night can be a lonely time. (Did you know there’s a group of nuns that pray specifically for you?)
Maybe your kids are still small. They need so much from you. Constant caregiving is exhausting. When they want to play, you’re so tired you just want to scroll. You feel guilty choosing your phone over your kids, but sometimes your hand makes the choice on its own. It’s a habit you picked up over hours of overnight feeding. And it’s a hard one to break. I see you. I am you.
There is Space for All of Us
Maybe you’re a mom to big kids or adults. Of course, they have friends and sports. Or they’ve moved out and have families of their own in faraway cities. Now, the rooms that once echoed with laughter have gone silent. You thought you wanted a quiet house. But now that it’s here, you don’t know what to do with all the space and silence.
Maybe you’re the mom without a baby to hold. The IVF hasn’t worked. The adoptions have all fallen through. Foster placements always change at the last minute. The room you’ve set aside is still empty. Clothes packed in a box until they’re needed. Maybe you’ve waited and waited, but your child hasn’t come. Take heart, dear one. God sees you, too.
Maybe you’re trying to get your pink back. You spend money on workout programs and meal plans, trying to get your body back to what you recognize. As the kids get older, and you find yourself with a free hour or two. So you spend time doing things you used to enjoy before kids, trying to get a bit of your spark back. The hobbies help, but something is still missing.
Maybe you’re battling yourself. You look in the mirror, and looking back at you is postpartum anxiety, depression, or rage. You know you’d never hurt your baby, but the thoughts that come to you in the quiet moments are terrifying. I’ve been there, too. You are not alone. There is help. Don’t suffer alone.
Maybe you’ve lost your mom, either by willful separation or by unchosen loss. Grief is heavy this season. This time of year will always bring tears to your eyes. You wish for someone to ask for advice. You’d give anything to hear her voice one more time.
Maybe you’re walking through a diagnosis and navigating a world you never imagined. Suddenly, everything feels fragile and uncertain. It’s a season of more questions than answers.
You Are Not Alone
Motherhood is a journey. We all grow and change throughout our lives – that isn’t individual to mothers. But I think motherhood brings it to the forefront of our lives.
Often in the early years, we lose bits of ourselves. Sometimes this is on purpose, other times it’s just how it happens. It’s hard to pour so much into others without forgetting a bit of ourselves. But then, as the kids grow and we settle into our new role, we rediscover ourselves. As we work through these transitions, it can be a lonely time.
Too often, motherhood feels like a lonely road. It can be hard to find others walking the same road or going at the same speed.
Friend, don’t let loneliness be the end of the story. You have people who are rooting for you and your success. You have people who are praying for you in this season of struggle. They might be people in your actual, real life. But sometimes, it’s people we’ve never met, a friend of a friend, whose prayers carry us.
Despite what the internet would have us believe, far more people are for us than against us.
You are not failing. You are enough. Even when you don’t feel like it, you are perfectly equipped to love your children well. You are their perfect mother. The only one they’ve ever known.
Today, I pray for you, lonely mom. That you would hear a still, small voice reminding you that you are not alone. No matter where you are on this journey of motherhood, an army of women surrounds you. Some walk before you, some behind. But many walk alongside you.
You are known. You are seen. And, you are so loved.
And, maybe most importantly, you are not alone.
