I have to admit, watching new moms on my social media feeds and out in public used to fill me with envy.

These moms looked so proud and filled to the brim with joy and satisfaction, holding and fawning over their babies like the prized jewels they are. I could tell these women relished motherhood.

I often wondered, Why couldn’t I?

Motherhood took me by surprise.

I became pregnant with my first child a mere six months after saying “I do.” I’ll never forget the look on my husband’s face when I told him what three pregnancy tests had confirmed. He was over the moon to find out he would be a father.

I did my best to prepare my body and our home for our little gift from God. I read all the books and checked popular pregnancy trackers every single week. I exercised and ate as well as my relentless morning sickness would allow. I enjoyed putting together the nursery in our one-bedroom apartment. Friends and family showered us with gifts, love, and support.

Somewhere between weeks 38 and 39, I decided I was ready. At week 40 I was beyond ready.

At week 41 I began to freak out.

At week 42, I went in for labor induction and wound up having a C-section. My baby girl finally arrived, and she was so beautiful. I cried tears of absolute joy.

Tears of joy became tears of pain as we struggled with nursing. Then, tears of exhaustion as we managed sleepless, colicky nights.

I wondered, God, why is this so hard?

I looked forward to getting a break and was eager to hand my daughter over to whoever would hold her.

I chalked it up to hormones and carried on. It will get better is what the moms in my life I trusted told me.

I carried on through a second pregnancy, a third, and a fourth before I confirmed what I suspected but squelched in pursuit of better.

The depression I suffered after my fourth pregnancy was deeper and darker than anything I had experienced before. The tears were constant and anger gave way to rage.

The guilt was unbearable and I could hardly get out of bed, much less take care of myself and a whole family. More than anything, I felt ashamed that I couldn’t get a handle on motherhood. At my lowest point, I decided I couldn’t handle the pain and the guilt and the shame anymore. I started to believe that my family deserved better.

In the middle of that deep, dank pit, I felt an urge to find help. I knew my story wasn’t over, but I knew I could no longer bear my burdens alone.

I started reading a devotional website in the morning on my phone. I started to pray. I found a counselor and attended a postpartum depression support group. I leaned on my husband, family, and friends. I let people in and let them help me find my strength.

I let God in and let Him heal my heart.

As I leaned into God, I learned the difference between the lies I believed and the truth. I learned how to take care of myself—body, soul, and spirit. I learned how to lean on my community, and how to give back. I learned how to forgive others. I learned how to forgive myself.

Postpartum depression stole my joy, but God gave it back to me plus interest.

Every time one of those old lies crops up—the ones that tell me I’m not good enough, that my children deserve a better mother, that all hope is lost—I fight back with the truth. The truth is that God is enough to make up for where I lack, that He loves me no matter what, and that He doesn’t make mistakes

The truth is, I am exactly the mother my children need.

When I try to think back to the first year of my daughter’s life, I don’t remember much. However, today I can cherish the warmth of her hugs now as a 12-year-old girl. I can hold her now like the prized jewel she is and feel deep joy and satisfaction, just like the moms I used to envy before.

Every time I fight the lies, I take back what postpartum depression stole from me. God gave me back the joy of motherhood, and for that, I will always be grateful.

You may also like:

In the Storm of Postpartum Depression, You Are Not Alone

There’s a Monster Lurking in the Quiet Shadows of Motherhood

New Mom Takes Her Own Life After Silent Battle With Postpartum Depression: Why All Of Us Must Share Her Friend’s Plea

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

Kat Charles

Kat Charles is a homeschooling mom of four and wife to her high school sweetheart. When she’s not doing the mom thing, you can find her curled up with a good book and a hot cup of chai. She writes about faith, mom life, and purposeful living on her blog Dearly Loved Child. You can find 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