So God Made a Mother Collection ➔

My new normal is 15 pounds heavier. I’m not writing this because I’ve embraced that. I’m writing this because I think it’s time to.

Because here’s the thing: I’m the only one who seems to be bothered by the number on the scale.

My husband doesn’t seem to mind. Quite the opposite, actually. Even after all these years, I still catch him checking me out.

My friends don’t care. Whether we get together for coffee or dinner, or meet up to kayak or walk, my body is healthy enough to do whatever we want to do.

My kids don’t care. My body is size perfect when it comes to hugging, tickling, feet fights, kitchen dance parties, or just cuddling on the couch.

My doctor doesn’t care. She’s never commented on my weight, suggested that it’s an unhealthy number, or encouraged me to lose weight. In fact, she even complimented me on my bloodwork at this year’s checkup.

God doesn’t care. When I grab my jiggly stretched out belly in disgust, I’m pretty sure He sees that slack skin as a beautiful reminder that I carried four of His precious children.

So, it seems that I’m the only one who cares.

And it’s not like I haven’t tried to rid myself of these irksome 15. I’ve tried diets, exercising more, intermittent fasting, tracking my food, and at times I’ve made a dent but I always end up back here.

I’m certainly not the healthiest person I know. I can eat so many Reece’s Pieces in one sitting it’s embarrassing (but delicious!). Some evenings, I drink beer and eat all the kids’ lunch snacks while I catch up on my Netflix. I stopped running entirely. Having said that, I do eat my fruits and veggies and curb the late night Pirate Booty binges when the pants are feeling snug. I don’t run because I don’t enjoy it anymore, so instead, I make time in my schedule for things I do enjoy, like kayaking, playing pickleball, gardening, and walking with my friends.

I pretty much lead the same kind of lifestyle that I did in my 20s and early 30s when my weight would naturally settle 15 lbs lighter than today. But doing the same things today, my weight settles where I am now.

I think this is my new normal. And I want to be OK with that.

I’m tired of being disappointed with myself when I look in the mirror. I’m tired of spending my whole day thinking of food when I’m dieting. Conversely, I’m tired of going to bed at night feeling disgusted with myself because I ate two bags of chips that were meant for lunches.

I don’t exactly know how to start being OK with my new normal, but I know I need to try.

This morning I came across this verse: “God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” -Samuel 16:7

I think I’ll start there. I’ll remind myself that I am a precious daughter of God, that He created me in His own image, that He doesn’t make crap, that He finds value in my whole being, that He looks to my heart.

If I’m good enough for Him, I should be good enough for me.

You may also like:

Hey Moms, Lose the Weight

You Are More Than Your Postpartum Body

I Am Beautiful and I Am Enough

Anne Metz

Anne Metz works part time as a freelance writer and spends the other part getting kids off the bus, breaking up fights, doing laundry, cooking, and cleaning up after her son and triplet daughters. For fun she enjoys whistling loudly and just slightly off key and eating meals that other people prepare for her. She is passionate about sharing her struggles with mothering to let other moms know they aren't alone in this journey. You can find more of her work on her blog: www.onceuponamom.net

Jesus Meets Me in Motherhood With His No Matter What Love

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother embracing daughter in sunlit room

My toddler was that kid on the playground—the one who would push and bite, erupting into a tantrum and needing to be carried home screaming. As I would carry my child to the car, the other moms looked at me with sympathy, confusion, fear, and . . . judgment.  Parents of challenging kids know this look well. We see judgment everywhere we go. I knew others were judging me, and I knew our challenges were beyond the normal bell curve, but as an overwhelmed young mom, I did all I knew to do: I blamed myself.  At my lowest, I...

Keep Reading

Dear Child, God Sees All of You—And So Do I

In: Faith, Kids, Motherhood
Mom and young son painting together

Math has always come easily to him. Even from the beginning stages when we counted wooden blocks on the living room floor, the numbers just came to him. “How many blocks are there?” I asked him, pointing to the scattered row of blocks. I expected him to count them. He was only three or four years old. “Six,” he answered promptly. “Yes . . . but how did you know that?” I asked hesitantly. He had not taken the time necessary to have counted them. “Three and three are six,” he replied. And on it went. The math came easily,...

Keep Reading

Dear Girl, Give Jesus Your Mess

In: Faith, Living
Woman holding Bible, color photo

Oh, dear girl, Give Jesus the mess. Your mess. The mess you think is too much or too big or too unbearable. The depths of the mess. The very worst of the mess. Lay it at His feet. He knew you long before the mess existed. Nobody knows your mess like Jesus. I assure you—this will not catch Him by surprise. Even when you do not understand, even when it is most difficult, even when you have your head buried in your hands. Praise Him, for God wastes nothing.  Even when it feels like opposition is coming at you from...

Keep Reading

A Mother’s Love Is an Endless Pursuit

In: Faith, Kids, Motherhood
Child on bike, color photo

I look at him and my heart breaks into a million little pieces. It simply hurts too much to know he hurts. He is my heart, and it squeezes and revolts when he struggles. I want to close my eyes and hold him close, and when I resurface, I want the world to be different for him. Look different, smell different, taste different. But, it remains the same, this pain.   In the beginning, when he was in my womb, I held my hands on my stomach and his tiny feet kicked me back. His bodily imprint on my skin. He...

Keep Reading

Motherhood Brings Me to the Floor and Jesus Meets Me There

In: Faith, Motherhood

I recently came across a short memoir writing competition with the theme, “Places that have made me, changed me, or inspired me.” I could write something for that, I thought. I’m by no means a jet-setter, but I do have a passport. I spent my 16th birthday in Russia on a three-week mission trip. During college, I lived in Thessaloniki, Greece for a four-month study abroad program. After my British husband and I got married, we settled in the UK, where we’ve spent the last 10 years. And now, I’m back in my sunny Florida hometown. These experiences and places...

Keep Reading

I Will Be a Friend Who Prays

In: Faith, Friendship, Living

You mentioned it casually. They had found a lump in your breast again. You’ve been here before, and maybe that means you better know how to navigate it. Except how can we possibly know how to handle such things? What emotions lie hidden behind your words? You tossed out words like lumpectomy and biopsy as if you were sharing a grocery list. I don’t know you well yet, but as you spoke the words, I had a deep desire to let you know I’m sorry. Seated around the table that night, you asked us to pray for you. I committed...

Keep Reading

I Wish I Could Tell You There Will Be No More Mean Girls

In: Faith, Kids, Motherhood
Mother and two daughters, color photo

Tonight before bed while I was tucking you in, you seemed really down. You are normally bubbly, talkative, full of laughter and life, but tonight you seemed sullen and sad. I asked what was wrong, and at first, you didn’t want to tell me. But then you shared with me what was breaking your heart. You told me about a mean girl. You told me the hurtful things she said and the unkind way she acted and the sneaky way mean girls bully by making you feel left out and less than.  It made me sad and angry. I didn’t...

Keep Reading

In the Hardest Moments of Motherhood, I’m Reminded to Look Up

In: Faith, Motherhood

It’s 3:00 in the afternoon, and you know the scene—I step on a tiny Barbie shoe as I’m walking to the sink. I shove it to the side with my foot and release a heavy sigh. I momentarily think about picking it up, but my back is aching from bending down to gather up treasures all morning. I place my half-filled coffee cup into the microwave to re-heat it for a second time. I need just an ounce of energy to get through the afternoon. My daughter heaves another basket of toys up from the basement, step by step. I can...

Keep Reading

Sometimes God’s Glory Shines Brightest in the Hardest Parts of Life

In: Faith, Living
Woman's hand with chipped nail polish

Half of the fingernails on my hands still show remnants of nail polish. It looks pretty awful. People might notice it and think, Really? You can’t take just five minutes to wipe off the chunks of color that haven’t flaked off already?  And I could. It probably wouldn’t even take five minutes. It’s not that I don’t have the time or that I’m being lazy. I just don’t want to.  You see, my daughter painted my nails almost a month ago. She’s five—they were never pretty to start with. They were sloppy with small strips at the edges left unpainted....

Keep Reading

God Tasked Us With Raising Beautiful People in a Fallen World

In: Faith, Motherhood

Today, I watched my little boy put an oven mitt over his hand and mix up an imaginary meal. Like any mother would be, I was touched to see my son enjoying himself—playing fearlessly in the Children’s Museum and exploring with many fun and creative toys. He would open the wooden fridge and purposely put a spatula in a specific compartment. Though his reasoning was not known to me—or anyone else for that matter—you could tell he had a plan for that metal spatula, and it was to be in that freezer. RELATED: The Secret No One Told Me About...

Keep Reading

 5 Secrets to Connect with Your Kids

FREE EMAIL BONUS

Proven techniques to build REAL connections