The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

During the past two weeks, my news-feed has exploded with new baby announcements. It’s common for me to have one or two here and there, but seriously, the past few weeks there were four babies born, an adoption, a new pregnancy announcement, and a gender reveal.

These things delight me.

I have five children of my own. I love pregnancies and babies and growing families. But I also know how hard these wonderful transitions can be.

Right after my second child was born, things were moving along great. Big sister was happy and adjusting well, breastfeeding was going fabulously, and my husband was able to be home with me for a couple of weeks as we all transitioned to a family of four. Our baby even slept well at night! I was a little down because of my post-baby body, but otherwise things were good.

When my new daughter was about two months old, something in me broke. One night she didn’t feel like eating when I thought she should, and this seemingly inconsequential thing caused a severe reaction in me. A sensation flowed over me that felt like someone had poured hot oil on my head. I felt it spread down my arms. It was panic and anxiety, but I didn’t know that yet. I would suffer like this day and night for another two months before I sought the help I needed.

I’d read a lot of new mom books. I’d read about baby blues and crying all the time. Since I had not cried, it never occurred to me that I was suffering from postpartum depression and anxiety. And wasn’t that supposed to happen right after the baby was born, not two months later? Since I had been fine, good even, the first two months, I thought this was just some strange ME problem.

I needed help. I needed people but felt bad calling on them so frequently. We lived hours away from family. Each day I’d think of a list of friends to call. I’d mentally cross off the ones who had young kids of their own, the one I had called yesterday, the one who was preparing to move out of state. That left me with my mom and my sister, mostly, and I hated bothering them every day.

Eventually, thankfully, my husband and I realized I wasn’t going to snap out of this. Meeting with my doctor, we decided medication was the route for me. I hated needing it for so many reasons. But I did need it, and I’m incredibly thankful it was made available to me. I required an anti-depressant following each of my subsequent pregnancies, as well. I sought it quicker and was a better mom for it.

So, what does my postpartum mental snap have to do with all those babies in my news-feed?

I have determined to be the kind of help to others that I wish I would have had. Friends and family are so eager to help and visit during those first few weeks. I get it: newborns are the best. And those meals brought over are a true blessing. However, by the time the magical six weeks is up, everyone kind of assumes you’ve got this whole parenting thing, leaving you to sink or swim on your own. 

Here are a few examples of ways I try to help new moms:

  • I try to be very open about my own struggles with postpartum anxiety and my need for medication. When appropriate, I bring it up in as non-threateningly as I can, in hopes to normalize it for another struggling mom. All with the hopes of encouraging her to seek her own help if she needs it.
  • Besides taking a meal when a baby is first born, I’ve started making a note in my calendar to take a meal when a new baby is three months old. 
  • I’ve offered my not-quite-old-enough-to-babysit older daughters to new mamas who also have toddlers or preschoolers. While my daughters aren’t quite capable of taking care of infants alone yet, they can sure entertain 3 and 4 year olds while new mamas rest with their babies, take a shower, or tackle the huge task of switching out seasonal clothes. Homeschooling makes this easy for us to do in the afternoon, but this could be done on weekends and in the evenings, too.
  • Knowing how hard it is for Couple Time, especially when you don’t have family nearby, I have called new moms and simply said, “My husband and I would like to watch your kids so you and your husband can go on a date. Would this night work or this one?” 
  • In September I’m going to go stay a week with my cousin and her new family of four. We set it up for me to come after the 6 week mark. I’m praying it will be a blessing to them. I already know it will bless me.

You might be surprised (I kind of was) that I’ve never been turned down in these offers of help and support. What this tells me is that while many new moms NEED help, they are not going to ask. But if you offer…they will gladly accept! So I will continue to reach behind me and grab the hands of sweet, tired, overwhelmed and sometimes lonely new mamas. Are there any new moms (or just plain overwhelmed mamas) whose hand you can grab this week? It might just be the life-line they need.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Dusty Reed

Dusty is a wife, a mother and a friend. Having grown up in a big city, she is now raising her family of seven on a farmstead in rural Nebraska. During weekdays Dusty can be found teaching her children at the dining room table. Or napping; it can be exhausting raising five kids! Dusty is always on the lookout for ways to avoid housework. Her favorite ways are meeting friends for coffee, preparing meals to take to others, or simply laying in a hammock with a good book. Often feeling like an inadequate mess, Dusty is allowing God to enter into those fragile parts of her heart to heal it. Anything she learns along this tangled path of life, she longs to share with others.

I Miss Having Parents

In: Grief
Grown daughter posing between smiling parents

I have been living with the ache of loss for so long that I truly don’t remember what it feels like not to carry it. Sometimes it rests quietly beneath my ribs, dormant and almost polite. Other times it rises without warning—on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of a coffee line—and cuts straight through me. Today, it was a song. I was waiting for my coffee when “Pictures of You” by The Cure drifted through the café speakers. I hadn’t heard it in 20 years. In my twenties, it meant heartbreak—young love unraveling, relationships ending before they were...

Keep Reading

What No One Tells You about Losing a Sibling

In: Grief

Nobody tells you that when you lose a sibling, your entire childhood flashes before your eyes. There’s no better witness to what you experienced growing up than that one person who was standing nearby for all of it. And when they’re gone, a part of that childhood and a part of that story goes with them, because it was only ever known between the two of you. There’s no last chance to say, “Remember when?” or to laugh about the things that made you laugh to tears together, a million times at the kitchen table. There’s no last conversation about...

Keep Reading

Grief Didn’t Break Me, It Rearranged Me

In: Grief
Sad woman looking off to the side

I survived losing my father after his long, grueling battle with cancer. It was one of the most difficult seasons of my life. I had a front row seat to watch cancer pick him apart piece by piece. When you lose a parent, you lose a part of yourself. They say time heals all wounds, but you never stop missing the good ones, and there are days when it feels like it just happened. By the grace of God, I survived, but I will always miss my father. Then, almost a decade later, I lost the career that helped me...

Keep Reading

I’m Learning To Be Soft and Strong

In: Grief
Woman sitting and crying on floor

During the weeks we cared for my grandmother in hospice, survival mode felt necessary. There were medications to track. Visitors to update. Logistics to manage. I remember sitting on the couch that served as my makeshift bed and listening to the rhythmic hissing and puffing of the oxygen machine one night. While my mom showered off the day, I texted my sister updates and sent my husband a quick message of love. I could still smell the lavender candle we had lit earlier in the day to mask medical scents. The house was quiet, but my mind wasn’t. I was...

Keep Reading

The Legacy Our Mothers Leave Is In the Details

In: Grief
Woman's hands holding beautifully wrapped small gift

It has been two months and nine days since my mom passed away. The first several weeks were spent on the details and logistics of planning her service. She passed in December, so once her beautiful service had passed, I busied myself with the preparations for Christmas. By mid-February, I finally began to process some feelings of grief on a deeper level. The quiet of this less-busy season is allowing the grief to soak in a bit more. Not the big things; not the obvious, grief-heavy reminders that stop me in my tracks. Instead, I’ve been noticing the small things....

Keep Reading

You Never Get Over Losing Your Mother

In: Grief
Woman and grown daughter smiling

It’s been 10 years since I last heard my mother’s voice. Ten years since I could pick up the phone and ask a question I already knew the answer to, just to hear her say it anyway. Ten years since someone loved me in that very specific, unconditional, occasionally annoying way that only a mother can. My mom died in 2015. And while “passed away” sounds softer, more polite, the truth is that she left. Suddenly. Permanently. With no forwarding address. She was gone. What I’ve learned in the decade since is not what I expected. I thought the biggest lesson...

Keep Reading

My Husband Is By My Side Through Every Storm

In: Grief, Marriage
Man with arm around woman's chair

The year 2025 began as a quiet storm. I was slipping into the fog of depression while navigating the early chaos of perimenopause, and some days simply getting out of bed felt impossible. My thoughts felt dark and heavy, my body unfamiliar, my energy nonexistent, and my moods uncontrollable. And yet, in the haze, there was one constant: my husband. He noticed the subtle shifts I barely acknowledged. The sighs, the quiet retreats into myself, the moments I almost broke. Instead of judgment or frustration, he offered presence. He held space for my struggle without trying to “fix” it, and...

Keep Reading

Losing My Mom Shaped Me As a Mother

In: Grief
Woman hugging young child, back view

Becoming a mother has a way of bringing old wounds back to the surface, even ones you believed had healed. I never imagined grief would surface so strongly in my motherhood journey. I thought it was something you carried silently, something that faded with time. But becoming a mother felt like my loss rising to its feet and saying, I’m still here There are moments when I reach for my phone to call my mom, only to be met with the reminder that I can’t. I want to ask her if what I’m feeling is normal, if the exhaustion softens,...

Keep Reading

Memories of My Grandma Live On

In: Grief
Glass fish sitting on window sill

Be intentional. Take the picture. Create memories. Because even when we think we have all the time in the world, one day it will slip away. Sadly, this is exactly what happened to my grandma and me. While I was growing up, my dad and his parents had a strained relationship, and they were estranged for about the first five years of my life. Thankfully, they reconciled, and my grandparents and I finally had the opportunity to establish a much-anticipated relationship. Though I was never able to form the same closeness with them as I had with my maternal grandparents,...

Keep Reading

Netflix Captured What I’ve Treasured for 17 Years: My Daughter’s Room Exactly How She Left It

In: Grief, Motherhood
Girl's bedroom with posters on the wall and toys on the bed

It was a Sunday evening. I was alone, scrolling through Netflix, searching for something, anything, to fill the quiet. Then I stumbled upon a documentary I had no clue existed, called All the Empty Rooms. After reading the description, my heart immediately went out to all the parents who contributed to this film, and to the man behind it, Steve Hartman, whose compassionate heart radiates in every frame. One statement he said hit me like a freight train: “What we need to talk about is the child that’s not here anymore.” Period. Powerful truth. Curiously, I started watching. Then I...

Keep Reading