The tiny little people I call my children make me feel so alive and yet the experience of raising them in the early years has sucked the life right out of me. Four long years of raising kids without a village and I learned to suffer in relative silence, simply hoping for a bit of help here and there. A reprieve from what felt like holding the world up on my shoulders.
And maybe that really is what the early years of parenting are like… Holding the world up for your kids.
Helping them experience the goodness around them while sheltering them from the true heartbreak.
Or trying to help them learn and realizing it’s seemingly impossible to define words like pain, the color red, or what it means to trust.
And ensuring they get their banana whole, unbroken and unpeeled, to avoid a meltdown.
It’s those little things that add up.
They add up to being able to confidently raise kids into adulthood. But it also adds up to feeling worn out and depleted every time the hour hand makes a lap around the clock for a new day.
Seven months of feeling overwhelmed, preceded by about 4 months of exhaustion, preceded by 5 years that included more of the same. It’s all because of the weight of hormones and emotions that come with motherhood.
And it was baggage I didn’t know I would have to carry.
Coupled with an endlessly messy house, piles of laundry, and the motherload of dishes and only a tiny countertop dishwasher, and it all was a recipe for drowning.
But I’m coming up for air, will you meet me there?
I’m finally understanding how to juggle three kids. But understanding doesn’t nececarily equate to thriving.
So will you be there to text me when you haven’t heard from me?
Will you be there to encourage me that this season has so much beauty despite so much frustration?
Will you be there to offer me that safety net to fall into before taking the plunge back into reality?
Honestly, friend, I need you.
I need you to ask me how I am doing, to offer to take the kids, and to encourage me in truth, in grace, and in kindness. I need to tell me it’s ok. Because it doesn’t feel that way.
I have waded through muck for years. I have fought for my sanity. And while juggling life is easier, I desperately need to know that you see me and that you notice when I’m thriving or when I am just surviving.
So I am begging you.
Please meet me there.
Author’s note: please share this with your friend you are encouraging or if this is you, don’t be afraid to ask someone to meet you in that place!
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Kara is an author, wife, and mother of 3 children living in Boston, MA. She has her degree in Secondary Education & Adolescent Childhood Development and is passionate about connecting with and even helping other parents on their journey to raise awesome kids!