The Hard Life of Young Mamas

Bookp1I just read a blog post written by a young mama — a thirty something year old mama.  She wrote about the stage of life that’s hard.  The repetitive dailies that are particular to young motherhood. She’s a great writer, part of a group of mamas who have a website to which they contribute entries.  It’s for encouragement and help for other young moms — I suspect they are helped more themselves by offering the same to others.  I’m so glad I read it (and I hope lots of other young mamas read it, too).   It’s a hard stage of life.  What great encouragement they are to one another and to all the readers of their blog.  God bless them.

I’ve had women ask me countless times through the years if it gets easier.  I try to encourage them that they’re doing a great job.  And, to answer their question, I tell them, no.  No, it doesn’t get easier.  It gets different, but it doesn’t get easier — bcz other new hard things come along. There are many things that improve — but I don’t think they improve because the children get older so much as the mama gets wiser.  While the children are being trained and are more helpful, there are other difficulties added to the mix. Mama starts improving her serve, as it were.  She learns how to do things more efficiently and forces herself to do them that way until they’re habit — second nature. Efficiency fosters confidence and enables her to accomplish more in less time.   All this enables her to be more attentive to her husband and to better care for her children.  I tell young mamas they’ll cry for these days.  They look at me like I’m nuts.  And I understand.

I tell them they’ll long for these sunny days they think will never end.  I tell them they’ll wish for one more pregnancy, one more nursing, one more diaper to change, one more story, one more potty training success day, one more jelly faced kiss, one more push on the swing, one more second of being clung to like glue, one more moment of being the only one to console a crying baby, a fearful toddler, a disappointed gradeschooler, a nervous teenager.  They’re sure they will not. Ever.  And I understand.

We all need every hard day of motherhood.  The longer I’m a mother, the more sure I am of this truth. I cry for those early days… those early days when it was just us.  Just us two. Just us three. Just us five. Just us seven. Just us nine… and so on.  Everything was new. Everything was amazing.  Days when it was just us reading bedtime Bible stories and praying beside beds, just us piling into the car, gathered around the table, sitting in the row at church, going on a trip, pushing a cart full of groceries, pulling a cart full of kids.  Hard days.  Days when lots didn’t get done.  Days when so much growing was going on.  Just us.

We all needed those hard days — those hard days brought us to these hard days.  Those hard days brought us through all the hard days in between those early hard days and these hard days.  I’m mindful of this as I look ahead to closing chapters of life—I want to remember I need these days and all I’m learning of the Lord and His ways through the years.  I know I will need what He’s shown me and look forward to what He’ll teach me in the days ahead.

Though I know it doesn’t necessarily get easier, I do know He is faithful and that allows me to look forward to the different days ahead.

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