The Life I Prayed For

Twenty-first century mothers are often offered a narrative in which they are martyrs and “hot messes,” lost in their roles as caretakers of tiny souls—but Cultivating Motherhood aims for something deeper and more grace-filled. As a mother, I know the need to cultivate a whole life rooted in Christ only intensifies as my daughters grow. My hope for this column is to share practical ways to still flourish and cultivate wholeness in Christ, while also inspiring our children to grow into sturdy oaks of righteousness.

I go to bed exhausted; I wake up exhausted. Fumbling for my phone on the nightstand, I clumsily hit the snooze button on my five o’clock alarm and collapse back into my maternity pillow, wishing I could go back to sleep and not think about the massive to-do list already scrolling through my groggy brain while my husband, Casey, staggers to the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot.

Nearly every weekend is full, with Casey preaching in tiny rural churches while I entertain our energetic toddler, Molly, in silent, empty nurseries. Writing and work deadlines breathe down my neck with increasing intensity. I’m nearly seven months pregnant with our second baby. My body hurts, and I’ve forgotten several important tasks and emails this week thanks to “pregnancy brain.” 

There’s so little time to take a deep breath. So little time to write something for myself, something that doesn’t require a deadline, something that only I would enjoy. So little time to vacuum up graham cracker crumbs or put away the growing piles of laundry. So little time to take my little girl to the park. So little time to listen to the needs of my pregnant body, because whenever I do, I burst into exhausted tears.

For the first time in nearly four years, I find myself daydreaming about a life where I spend Molly’s nap time writing and caring for our home rather than sending emails and creating graphic designs and copywriting for others. I tell Casey one night, sobbing, that I can’t keep working at this pace with two baby girls to keep alive and loved next year.

But what if his job situation doesn’t change? What if God never gives him a new pastoral position (the real desire of his heart)? What if he loses his current job? What if—?!

Is it any surprise I’ve had two emotional breakdowns this week?

Another morning, another weary waking—only this time, I can’t afford to hit the snooze button: I work a second job on Thursdays, and I have to be there at 7:45 a.m., sharp. I mechanically go through my mental timetable: guzzle some coffee, do my makeup, get dressed, wake and feed Molly, prepare our lunches, head out the door no later than 7:30 …

I wish I didn’t have to do this, I think miserably. I have to do this, but I don’t want to do this. 

But then a thought crosses my mind, so quick and so gentle that it can only be the Holy Spirit: Never forget that this is the life you prayed for. 

I stop short, shocked at first … then absolutely furious. I haven’t prayed for this. When I married Casey, we both thought we’d be at his first church position for five years. That had been the plan, with plenty of time to start our family within a place of relative security. We never prayed for a situation where we’d have to move back home with a boatload of trauma and work multiple jobs to stay afloat. 

I NEVER wanted this! I wail to the Lord. Casey never wanted this! This isn’t how we wanted to start our life together or bring our babies into the world! This isn’t what we asked for!

And yet the still, small voice persists: Never forget that this is the life you prayed for.

I stop again. Force myself to take a deep breath. 

What had I prayed for, all those years ago? 

I was someone who experienced “prolonged singleness.” In the circles I grew up in, girls were expected to marry young with babies following in quick succession. Several of my friends did follow that path; I didn’t, though not for lack of trying. The first guy I dated was a good man, just not a good match. The others were, to put it mildly, walking red flags. 

But my final suitor—Casey—was someone I’d known for years, never imagining he’d become my best friend. I prayed for well over a decade that I’d marry someone like him: a kind, gentle Christ follower who would love me and our children tenderly, and who saw me as a whole person with my own needs and interests. The Lord answered that desire of mine more than I could’ve ever asked or imagined. 

Never forget that this is the life you prayed for.

And what of our babies? Casey and I agreed early on that we wanted children, but I worried some of my own health issues might give me trouble. Nevertheless, Molly was born just a little over a year after we married, and two years later, a baby sister is on her way.

I used to weep over the story of Hannah who prayed in agony for a child of her own. Now I have a merry blue-eyed toddler who makes sure I’m well stocked on cheese sticks, yogurt, and fruit, and another little girl in my womb who wakes me with her tap dancing at 2:30 in the morning. 

Never forget that this is the life you prayed for.

And work? Hard as it is sometimes, I love whipping up elegant promotional designs, organizing meetings and events, and helping publish this magazine. I love being in fellowship with the writers of The Maker’s Project. For so long, I had little to no community like this one—certainly not one outside my own family—that would encourage me to pursue my gifts even as a wife and mother. I’m showing my little girls what the capaciousness of womanhood looks like, proving that they, too, can “[look] well to the ways of [their] household[s] and … not eat the bread of idleness” (Proverbs 31.27, ESV) while also cultivating their God-given gifts.

Never forget that this is the life you prayed for.

Is this season of life hard right now? Honestly, it’s not just hard, it’s often excruciating. Casey and I are tired and uncertain, and we have so many longings. But there are nights, too, when we sink into bed, look one another in the eye, and rehearse this simple truth to each other: “We have so much to be grateful for.” Our marriage is young, but it’s solid and rich; we’re plugged into the loving community of our youth; and our babies are growing and healthy. God provides for us over and over again, meeting not just our physical needs, but our mental and spiritual hungers as well. 

None of these gifts negate the real hardship, but they do temper the trial, reminding us both that this is a “light momentary affliction … preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Corinthians 4.17, ESV). And even on the hard, weary mornings, I need to intentionally name God’s immeasurable faithfulness to me. All those years I feared I was forgotten and unseen, He really was working all things for my good.

Inspired by Ann Voskamp’s example in her book One Thousand Gifts, I diligently kept a gratitude journal throughout my long and lonely single years. It’s a habit I lost amid the busyness of early marriage and postpartum life, but one I intend to pick up again in the new year. I know I’ll need the daily reminder to practice gratitude when I’m short on sleep and juggling a two-year-old and a newborn!

Mamas, please consider keeping a journal with me in this new year, even if you only have the time and mental capacity to name one thing you’re thankful for each day. There is great power in naming, even if the only thing you can write down is “A hot cup of coffee.” That coffee is a gift and a grace. Name it, and see what happens.

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The featured image, “Little Stars,” is courtesy of Julie Jablonski and used with her kind permission for Cultivating.

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