When my kids were little, I was always looking to the next phase—when I’m done nursing, when they sleep through the night, when there are no more bottles or sippy cups, when our days don’t revolve around nap time, when diaper days are over and there are no more diaper bags to prepare, when we pack up the crib and move into a bed, when there are no more footie pajamas or onesies, when we don’t need car seats, when the training wheels come off, when they can sit through a movie, when we can listen to something besides Bob the Builder, when I’m no longer pulling action figures out of my purse while I’m searching for a pen . . .
Those days and those years were some of the fullest and busiest times of my life. Those days and years really did pass by in the blink of an eye, just like everyone said they would. Although I was often anxious and frazzled, although I lost my temper more often than I care to admit and craved just a moment to myself most hours of every day and although hindsight is 20/20 and I didn’t appreciate those days as much as I could have, as much as I should have, and man, I miss those days something fierce right now.
Where I once had three tiny humans stuck to me like Velcro, I now have three teenagers, who are far removed from the Velcro stage, but I can prove they exist by the remnants they leave around the house in their wake. I love my teenagers, I really, really, truly do. But lately, I’ve had this thought running through my head, this nagging, sad thought . . . I wasn’t made for raising teenagers.
That sounds crazy and mean and awful, but I don’t mean it that way because I love my kids so much I would die for them. But I was in my glory days as a parent when my kids were babies and toddlers. I know not all parents feel that way and that used to shock me—until I got here because some people love this phase I’m in, and I don’t. And I’m trying, I’m trying so hard.
But back then, though I was exhausted and stressed, I lived for walks with the stroller or pulling the wagon to the park. We rarely missed a Wednesday morning story time at our public library. I could read books out loud to my babies for hours and memorized most of them. I made up songs to narrate bath time and potty time, and I could rock a dance party every night of the week. I failed in a lot of ways during those years, but we had a lot of fun, a lot of laughs, a lot of snuggles, and a lot of love.
I longed for those days to be over and to have big kids to play with and go on adventures with. Now, I have big kids and the grass seems greener in the years that are over. I don’t want to wake up five years from now with a nearly empty nest and regret wishing these years away too. I don’t want to look back and think I let fear and anxiety take away the joy in my life. I don’t want to waste these last years of raising children because it is hard.
That’s what it is—it is painfully hard. It is hard to give them freedom, and it is hard to set boundaries. It is hard to talk about relationships. It is hard to watch them make mistakes. It is hard to see them fail. It is hard to see them get hurt. It is hard to watch them suffer. Band-aids and kisses don’t fix their teenage boo-boos (though, sometimes they are the necessary form of treatment).
But in these times, I have to remind myself that they are their own people, and if they never experience heartache, pain, and disappointment, if they never make their own mistakes, then they will never get to learn from them and grow. I have to remember that my greatest growth came from my greatest hurts and my greatest failures.
I’m not really sure where to go from here, but I do know I can’t stay where I am mentally. I can’t live every day dreaming of the past, or I will miss out on great moments in the present. Nobody will ever deny that raising teenagers is hard. But even in the trenches, there are moments of fun and laughter. Through dark times, we have had great conversations I never thought I was capable of having and can only be attributed to the Holy Spirit working in me.
Even though I feel like I wasn’t made for raising teenagers, I know that when I trust in the Lord and obey His commands, He will equip me with everything I need for every joy and every trial, through every laugh and every tear.
Even though I no longer have three little boys stuck to my side and am often alone, I am never alone because God is always with me, He will never leave me or forsake me. He has a plan for me to grow in my mothering, and He has a plan for my boys too. God will use their life experiences—both good and bad—to develop character, strength, and perseverance for their good and His glory. He will never leave them or forsake them either.
The truth is, they are His more than they are mine. And as I watch them grow, I pray for their safety and protection, but more than anything I pray for them to know the love of Christ and to live for Him and not for themselves. I pray that I can rest in knowing that God’s plan and love for them is greater.
My role as a mom looks different now. They don’t need me like they used to, but they still need me. Even though my days aren’t filled with snuggles, stories, and songs, they are still filled with the love of Christ in this home and with this family He has blessed me with. Today, I will count my blessings for each cherished moment He has given me in the past and pray for all the ones the future holds.
by Carolyn Moore 
by Kelly Crawford 
by Whitney Fleming 
