When my husband and I decided we were ready to start a family, the thought of tiny feet pitter-pattering through the house excited me. 

While it was true that I knew nothing about raising children, I read ALL the books upon becoming pregnant with my first child. And in turn, I knew just what to expect in the delivery room. Or at least I thought I did.

I had a plan—an actual birth plan. I would deliver my baby naturally, completely unmedicated. With the help of my husband and doula, essential oils and soothing music, I would power through contractions and push a baby out of my body while barely breaking a sweat.

My darling baby would be born into a peaceful, lavender-scented room and I would bask in the newness of life while resting with a sleeping newborn against my chest. We would gently ease into nursing while gazing into each other’s eyes.

But all good fantasies must come to an end. And my fantasy bubble burst right there in the delivery room—on more than one occasion.

The birth of my first child entailed 20-some grueling hours of hard labor, and after the first 15, I requested an epidural as I screamed in response to the crushing pain of another contraction. I could hear people in the hallway laughing and mocking me for attempting an unmedicated birth. But I couldn’t be distracted by their comments while I was in the middle of important and hard work.

After my daughter was born, time stood still as I gazed into her dewy eyes, almost mystified by her beauty. A short time later, after awkwardly and unsuccessfully attempting to breastfeed her, I beckoned a nurse to teach me the art of nursing a baby. The experience was helpful, but no less awkward as she cupped my breast and pinched my nipple. And just hours later, I beckoned her again—this time to take my precious, but screaming baby to the nursery. I was desperate for sleep, and after realizing that I would be going home the next day to face motherhood on my own, I figured I better take the help while it was available.

I had learned a few things during my first childbirth experience, and I would carry those things with me to the births of my future children. I wouldn’t bother with a birth plan or lavender oil and I would be better prepared for the pain and long nights.

But it turned out that nothing could have prepared me for my next delivery room experience. I ended up in labor just halfway through my next pregnancy. My second baby was born without breath, and there would be no awkward breastfeeding sessions or nights spent with a crying baby.

With a broken heart that I hoped another baby would heal, I went into yet another pregnancy—this time with zero expectation. I didn’t know what would happen in that delivery room; I just hoped my baby would be alive.

And alive he was, kicking and screaming. He was a rather unhappy baby right from the start and cried for months on end. But having a new baby to hold brought so much light back into my life, despite his less-than-sunny disposition.

Not one of my delivery room experiences was like another, but collectively they taught me pretty much everything I needed to know about motherhood.

I learned to embrace compromise—because when the days are long and sleep is in short supply, sometimes standards are swapped for survival.

I learned I couldn’t plan for everything, nor could I control it. Childbirth is unpredictable. Children are unpredictable. And it’s impossible to plan for circumstances you aren’t privy to.

I learned to ask for help—because with little experience and paralyzing exhaustion, it’s impossible to do this motherhood thing all alone.

I learned there is no such thing as ideal or perfect. Each moment of motherhood will throw you for a loop and you simply do the best you can with what you have.

I learned that motherhood can be awkward and at times humiliating. It’s a vulnerable place to be and someone is always going to have an opinion about the choices you make. Sometimes you have to ignore the negativity around you and keep pushing through.

I learned that motherhood can be heartwarming and heartbreaking. With each snuggle, each smile, each grip of a little hand, your heart bursts with overwhelming love. But sooner or later, children leave in one way or another—and you can never fully prepare for the moment they do.

And most importantly, I learned that even the worst days of motherhood are not beyond restoration. There will be painful days, and confusing days, and dark days that leave you begging for different circumstances. But a new, brighter day is always waiting on the other side.

You may also like:

10 Things I Learned the First 10 Minutes of Motherhood

Dear Mama, This Part of Motherhood is Your Beautiful Mess

Dear New Mom, You’re Killing It

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Jenny Albers

Jenny Albers is a wife, mother, and writer.  She is the author of Courageously Expecting, a book that empathizes with and empowers women who are pregnant after loss. You can find Jenny on her blog, where she writes about pregnancy loss, motherhood, and faith. She never pretends to know it all, but rather seeks to encourage others with real (and not always pretty) stories of the hard, heart, and humorous parts of life. She's a work in progress, and while never all-knowing, she's (by the grace of God) always growing. You can follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

Sometimes God Sends a Double Rainbow

In: Baby, Loss, Motherhood
Two sacs as seen in early pregnancy sonogram

I lay on the ultrasound table prepared to hear the worst. While this pregnancy wasn’t totally expected, it was a miracle for me. I knew with the current stress in my life and the symptoms of a miscarriage, I may have to face another heartbreak to my series of heartbreaks over the last two years. I questioned what I did wrong to deserve it all. I prayed I had been stronger in my prior life: to have made better decisions. So I lay there, I held my breath, and I waited as the tech put the cold jelly over my...

Keep Reading

When Your Baby becomes a Big Boy

In: Baby, Motherhood, Toddler
Toddler boy smiling with hoodie on

My son recently learned how to climb out of things, so I asked my husband to take the side off the crib to convert it to a toddler bed today. I snapped one last picture of my son in his crib before I hurried off to get him dressed for school. As I got to work, I saw my husband had sent me a text of the transformed crib, and it just about killed me. I know, I know . . . what even changed? It pretty much looks the same. But it’s more than just the side of the...

Keep Reading

I Know This Baby Is Our Last and It’s Bittersweet

In: Baby, Motherhood, Toddler
Woman snuggling baby by window

Three is our magic number. It always has been. It feels like the perfect number of kids for us. Everyone who belongs around my dinner table is here. Our family is complete. And yet even though my family is complete, I still find myself grieving that this is our last baby just a little bit as I pack up the teeny, tiny newborn onesies and socks. I’ve folded up swaddle blankets that saw us through the all-nighters of the newborn phase, ready to be passed along to a new baby in someone else’s family. But they won’t be swaddled around...

Keep Reading

I Wasn’t Sure You’d Be Here To Hold

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother with newborn baby on her chest in hospital bed

I stood naked in my parents’ bathroom. Even with the tub filling, I could hear my family chattering behind the door. I longed to be with them, not hiding alone with my seven-month round belly, sleep-deprived, and covered in pox-like marks. For three weeks, I’d tried Benadryl, lotions, and other suggested remedies to cure the strange rash spreading over my body. No luck. By Christmas Day, my life had been reduced to survival. Day and night, I tried to resist itching, but gave in, especially in my sleep. At 1 a.m., 2 a.m., 3 a.m., the feeling of fire ants...

Keep Reading

No One Warned Me About the Last Baby

In: Baby, Kids, Motherhood
Mother holding newborn baby, black-and-white photo

No one warned me about the last baby. When I had my first, my second, and my third, those first years were blurry from sleep deprivation and chaos from juggling multiple itty-bitties. But the last baby? There’s a desperation in that newborn fog to soak it up because there won’t be another. No one warned me about the last baby. Selling the baby swing and donating old toys because we wouldn’t need them crushed me. I cried selling our double jogger and thought my heart would split in two when I dropped off newborn clothes. Throwing out pacifiers and bottles...

Keep Reading

My Second, It Only Took a Second To Fall In Love With You

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother with newborn baby on chest, black and white image

You were the second. The second child who, as a mother, I wondered if I could love as much and as fiercely as my first. It’s true, I’m ashamed to admit. As much as you were so desperately prayed for, I was scared. So, so scared. I was scared I was going to fail you. You were the second. And already so loved. But, you see, your brother was my whole entire world. My everything. He made me a mother and gave me all the firsts. My lap was only so big. My heart was only so big. There was...

Keep Reading

Dear Helmet Mama, It’s Not Your Fault

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mom holding baby with helmet, color photo

I’m a helmet mama. It’s something I never thought I’d say, but there it is. And I’m not going to be ashamed of it. Of course, at first, when the doctor referred us to see a specialist for “flat head,” I thought, “Oh, please no. Not my baby.” I’ve seen those babies, and I’ve always felt bad for them and wondered how their heads got that bad. And I’ll be honest, I’d usually pass judgment on the mother of that baby. So how did I end up with my own baby having a helmet on his head? It’s called torticollis—and...

Keep Reading

Thank You to the Nurses Who Cared for My Baby First

In: Baby, Motherhood
Infant in hospital isolette, color photo

I wish I knew who she (or he) was and what she looked like. Was she young or older, experienced or just starting out? How had her weekend been? Was she starting or ending a work shift at 2:30 a.m. that Monday morning when they ran me into the surgery room? The first few days after my son was born, he was kept in intermediate care as we recovered from an emergency C-section that saved both our lives—his by just a few minutes. I occasionally managed to shuffle over to see him, but was pretty weak myself, so the nurses...

Keep Reading

Hey Mama, This Is Your Labor & Delivery Nurse Speaking

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother holding newborn baby looking up at labor and delivery nurse and smiling

First of all, mama, I want to congratulate you! Whether this is your first baby or not, I am honored to be here with you through this experience. Before you ask me, no, I do not care if you shaved your you know what. There are plenty of other things I’m thinking of, and that is not one of them. I’m so happy to be here for the birth of you and your baby, but most importantly, I’m happy to be here for YOU. It doesn’t matter to me if you want to breastfeed, it doesn’t matter if you want...

Keep Reading

My Baby Had Laryngomalacia

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother holding baby on her shoulder

Life’s funny, isn’t it? Just when you think you’ve got the whole motherhood thing figured out, the universe throws a curveball. And, oh boy, did it throw me one with my second baby. There I was, feeling like a seasoned mom with my firstborn—a healthy, vivacious toddler who was 16 months old. Our breastfeeding journey had its hiccups, an early tongue-tie diagnosis that did little to deter our bond. Fourteen months of nurturing, nighttime cuddles, and feeling powerful, like my body was doing exactly what it was meant to do. Enter my second baby. A fresh chapter, a new story....

Keep Reading