A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I said over and over again that I wouldn’t know what to do with a boy during my pregnancy. You see, I grew up as the oldest of three sisters—dolls, tea parties, coordinating outfits and all. While our closest family and friends (including me!) were convinced we were having a boy, my husband’s hunch was spot on with the birth of our beautiful baby girl.

Phew,” I told myself.

Something familiar. “This you can do!”

And then came breastfeeding, sleepless nights, and a rollercoaster of emotions. Reality check.

I taught a parenting class for four years. I felt very prepared and thought I knew what to expect. No amount of reading parenting books and researching different methods and stages can truly prepare you for the adventure that is parenting.

During first few weeks of maternity leave my husband would come home for lunch to check up on his girls. More often than not he would find both of us in tears. He would offer me reassurance and commend my efforts. Sometimes over the baby’s cries, like the Rascal Flatts’ song, he would remark, “I don’t know how you do what you do!” I’m sure my immediate reaction to that statement was an eye roll.

This isn’t how I imagined motherhood.

It occurred to me in the middle of one of those sleepless nights with a newborn what a blessing my husband is. God could not have created a more perfect match for me, and I couldn’t do “all the things” if it weren’t for his constant support and encouragement.

My husband and I share most of the responsibilities that surround our household. Both of us work outside the home to provide income. Upkeep and day-to-day operations such as meals, laundry, and dishes are a collaboration. And major financial decisions are made as a team. His passions and skills compliment and supplement my own.

But my husband has what is perhaps the most difficult job of all. He navigates the uncharted and irrational territory of emotions that surround my new role as mama.

Husband, don’t sell yourself short.

At times you take a behind the scenes role, but if it weren’t for your stability this mama might lose her mind.

Your ability to recognize when I need some time to myself is uncanny. You take care of me so that I can take care of our baby.

I see the way that you interact with our little one, she just as infatuated with you as I am. My heart explodes with love as I watch you thrive in your new role as a daddy.

Husband, this isn’t how I pictured our life together; it’s better than I ever could have imagined. God went above and beyond in answering my prayers for a loving helpmate and partner to raise a family and grow old with.

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!

Alexandrea Johnson

Wife. Mama. Jesus lover. Nebraska girl. I love peanut butter, sewing projects, and sweatpants. I log my creative endeavors at www.wipstitchery.com

Mom Showed Us Love that Lasts

In: Motherhood
Vintage photo of mother and three young kids

We moved a few years ago, and we had a closet that needed some reworking. In doing so, my husband found some old photos. He pulled out an album that held this vintage photo of my mom, my sisters, and me. It was probably circa 1983 when prints were made from Kodak. I actually don’t remember seeing the photo before. But I love it. In the photo, my mother’s eyes are shut with a blink because those were the days when blinks weren’t edited. It’s beautiful, and I can’t stop thinking about the captured connection. She was showing us something...

Keep Reading

This Is How I’m Raising My Sensitive Son

In: Motherhood
Little boy hugs a cat

When I was pregnant with my son, everyone warned me of what was to come. “Just you wait,” they’d say with an underlying schadenfreude, “you’ll never sleep again.” I fully expected sleep-deprived days and long, unrelenting nights, calming my son down from tantrums, trying to keep the peace with my marriage. But I got lucky—my son sleeps through the night, doesn’t throw tantrums, and my marriage is stronger than ever. I didn’t expect that, especially because I struggle with my own mental health and assumed I’d be in the weeds during my postpartum period. Now that my son is almost...

Keep Reading

It’s Time for Us To Start Talking about Menopause

In: Motherhood
Midlife woman selfie

Disclaimer: The information included below is not intended as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment.   Menopause. Growing up, this was a mysterious subject spoken about in hushed tones. When I approached this transition, I didn’t know what to expect. It began during a dinner with old college friends. Suddenly, I was overcome by heat and nausea. I left early, missing time with friends I rarely see and the beer sampler I ordered. Driving back to the hotel, I realized I had my first major hot flash. This was just the start of unexpected changes. In the following...

Keep Reading

I Didn’t Know You Were My Last Baby When I Had You

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother holding newborn baby, black and white image

I didn’t know at the time that my last baby would be my last. Those late nights with little sleep. The days that felt so long, yet so full all at the same time. The pain that came with trying to breastfeed and wanting so badly for it to work. Learning who was truly there for you in moments that felt lonely. I didn’t know my body would never feel those first flutters again—or experience the emotional joy of meeting your baby face to face after nine months of waiting. I think that’s why I want so badly to experience...

Keep Reading

The Invisible Pain after IVF Stops

In: Motherhood
Woman holding pregnancy test with head in hands

There is nothing “basic” about stopping IVF and returning to the so-called natural route. There is no guidebook for what comes next. The protocols and procedures that once dictated every step suddenly disappear. The appointments, alarms, and instructions are gone—but the emotions and unknowns remain. There is no protocol for going back to the basics. When we decided to stop IVF and try naturally, I wasn’t prepared for how difficult this next part of our journey would be. During IVF, everything had structure. There were calendars to follow, medications to take at exact times, appointments that filled the weeks. There...

Keep Reading

The Final Out

In: Motherhood
Baseball game as seen through the fence behind home plate

Tonight I watched him step up to the plate for the last time. Play-offs. Single elimination. Down by one. Last inning. Two outs. And the batting lineup just happened to fall to him. Nothing prepares you for that. He took a breath. The weight of an entire lifetime spent in red dirt hinging on this moment. He set his face like flint to that pitcher. The ball left the glove, and he swung. Strike one. He stepped away. Reset. Tapped the base. Then set himself once more. He swung, hit a line drive, and sprinted headlong towards the base, setting...

Keep Reading

These Holy Small Things

In: Faith, Motherhood
Children sewing at machine

My 8-year-old-daughter has recently taken up sewing, to my simultaneous delight and chagrin. My delight because I too love sewing; my chagrin because her enthusiasm often outpaces my own abilities, namely, in the undertaking of tedious projects with no pattern. Take, for example, the cloth doll diaper we designed and stitched up together. Granted, the design was fairly basic to draw up and scale. But the minuscule nature of the work, both for my hands and head, was enough to throw me into existential questioning. It was one of those moments when you wonder how the sum of your life...

Keep Reading

The Pressure to Do Everything “Right” Is Crushing Us

In: Motherhood
Tired and stressed mother sits in hallway with toddler across from her, black and white image

I don’t remember when motherhood started to feel like a test I didn’t study for—but somehow, I’m always convinced I’m failing it. It’s in the quiet moments. Standing in the grocery store aisle, overthinking every label—organic, non-GMO, dye-free, free-range, grass-fed—like I’m one bad decision away from ruining their future…while also trying not to take out a second mortgage just to afford my ever-rising grocery bill. Sitting on the couch, wondering if the show they’re watching or game they’re playing is rotting their brain. Lying in bed at night, replaying the way I handled a meltdown, picking apart every word I...

Keep Reading

Letting You Go Is Still So Hard

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Walkway toward water at sunset

Nothing really prepares you for the day your child leaves the house. Last September, my husband and I moved our 18-year-old son into his dorm room. Right after that, he was swept away into all things orientation, and we began our 1,000-mile journey back home. Leaving this beautiful human I raised and spent all those years with felt foreign. During our final hug goodbye, despite trying to hold in my pain, I broke out in huge, ugly, guttural tears. Our drive home was a long two days. It took every fiber of my being not to turn around. Returning to...

Keep Reading

Behind Every Smiling Graduate Is a Mother Letting Go

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mom and grown son smiling

Every year, millions of American families send their children off to their freshman year of college. Their pictures dot our social media feeds. Images of excited students holding collegiate pennants, maybe wearing a hat or holding up their school’s hand sign with beaming smiles. Their parents post excited words about futures and hopes and dreams. One chapter closing. Another opening. A new beginning. So why am I struggling so much? Why does this feel more like a loss than a gain? Why are my tears always on edge, threatening to spill over each time I think about August and what...

Keep Reading