Sunday May 13, 2018, is Mother’s Day in the USA. Mother’s Day, originally established after the Civil War to honor mothers who had lost their sons in the war, brings me #allthefeels, particularly in the last 4 years. As moms, we are constantly weighing all the pros and cons of every situation. We have to try to see into the future and anticipate it, for all the problems and things that might happen. It’s our job when we are responsible for keeping tiny humans alive, and that takes up a lot of space in our heads, hearts, and lives.

As a result, we sometimes forget about self-care or to deal with our own junk. Mother’s Day comes, and then all of that comes crashing together. Hence, #allthefeels.

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In September 2015 I began attending a MOPS (Mothers of Pre Schoolers) group near my house. It was hosted by a local church, but not the church we called home. I attended for about a year (well, 2 semesters), but in May 2016 when the year ended, the leader stepped down and a new leader could not be found (and MOPS appeared to have taken several steps away from their roots as a gospel-centered ministry), and the ministry at that church disbanded. It was then that I began to realize I couldn’t possibly be the only mom at my church who felt the need for this vital ministry and fellowship.

November was a busy month of travel for us. My husband was out of town for work for almost a week, and then immediately after he returned, I traveled by plane across the country to visit my sister who I hadn’t seen in almost 2 years. After we returned from that flight, we all packed in the car and traveled by car 9 hours to PA for Thanksgiving. In hindsight, busy doesn’t even seem to be the right word for all that traveling madness… I’m glad I didn’t have to do all that traveling alone with two kids!

Before I had Nora, I traveled alone with Claire quite a bit. I mostly flew, and each time I got better at it. I used what I learned from traveling alone with 1 to hone in on what I would need traveling with two kids, and that became my starting point.

After the birth of our first in 2015, I got hit by an unexpected bout of postpartum anxiety and baby blues. I was lonely, but nervous to reach out. I wanted help, but I didn’t know how to ask for it. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep. I was in pain, but couldn’t fix it. I loved my baby, but I dreaded feeding her. It was so hard, and so unexpected because she was our rainbow baby who I had waited my entire life for: motherhood was my calling! I was completely derailed by these emotions and hormones, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I felt like I had no control. I clung to Scripture, my husband, and my baby, and told very few people how I felt. I said no to well-meaning friends and visitors because I was embarrassed by how I looked and felt.