So God Made a Mother Collection ➔

The spot where my IV was shoved into my vein has officially healed.

The bruise on my back from the epidural that half-worked is no longer visible.

The milk supply my body produced on its own has dried up, and my boobs are no longer the size and weight of watermelons. The bleeding has ended, my lady parts have stopped feeling like they’re on fire and the pain pill regimen I incorporated into my daily routine for an entire week has ceased.

The only remnants truly left from my recent pregnancy are the red stretch marks that sporadically span across my now shrunken belly.

This season of life has ended for me, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit sad.

There is truly no experience like that of welcoming new life into the world, and knowing it’s a season I’ll never experience again creates a pit in my stomach I can’t entirely explain.

The realization that there will be no more babies in our family is something my husband and I are okay with. After all, our hands and hearts are filled to the brim with four beautiful children.

But every now and again, I find myself slapped with a wave of grief that this season is over. There will be no more babies, and once our last baby outgrows the burp cloths, bottles and diapers—once he moves on from the sippy cups, highchair and Jumperoo—they will be put away forever, never to be seen again.

While it is true that our family feels complete in all senses of the word, and it is true that my husband and I love the unique ways in which our family was built, it is also true that I feel sad I will never experience the miracle of pregnancy and childbirth again.

I will never again experience the excruciating pain of my uterus contracting while a tiny human being makes its way through my body to enter the world.

I will never again experience the euphoria that is a living, breathing baby being placed upon my chest while I let out a sigh of relief—one my body’s been anticipating and holding in for nine whole months.

I will never again experience the shakes and hormone crashes that post-delivery gifts a birth mother. Or visit the labor and delivery floor of the local hospital to push out a level of physical and mental strength I didn’t know I had and be whisked away in a wheelchair while nurses take care of me and I stare in awe at the new life I helped create.

I’ll never again buckle a tiny newborn into an infant car seat and take him home from the hospital because this phase of my life has ended, and it is bittersweet.

This is my final baby season of motherhood, and writing that out loud makes me feel sad. 

I am grateful with every fiber in my body that I’ve been able to experience this season of babies four times within four years. Maybe it’s because motherhood didn’t come easy for me, but there is something to be said when you feel this chapter closing in. I know how fast it all goes; I can see changes on the horizon.

This phase—this exhausting, highly-caffeinated, needed-all-the-time phase—will end just as quickly as it began. And little by little, my babies will stop needing me.

So these days I’ll squeeze my baby—my final baby—a little more tightly. I’ll hold him a little longer. I’ll roll out of bed and shuffle downstairs into the kitchen and shake up the last bottle before the rest of the house wakes up because I know all too well it will soon be over. And this season of motherhood—the one that’s been so healing and beautiful and fulfilling for our family—will never come back again.

You may also like:

You Are My Last, Sweet Baby

To My Last-Born Son As We Begin the Final Firsts

Want more stories of love, family, and faith from the heart of every home, delivered straight to you? Sign up here! 


Shelley Skuster

Shelley is the writer behind She's a former award-winning news reporter who -- after years of infertility, two adoptions and a pregnancy -- decided to leave TV news to stay at home and focus on raising her three daughters -- ages three and under.

I Want My Kids To Know God’s Always There

In: Faith, Motherhood
Woman holding cross in the palm of her hand, color photo

A few months ago, my friend lost his dad. And it impacted our community profoundly. Because he loved SO BIG. Everywhere he went, he couldn’t help but talk to and engage with people—sharing a joke to make them smile or offering a compliment to build them up. He was a connector. And in all the connecting he did, he was quick to remind everyone he encountered that our hearts are ever connected to a God who loves us. It had become his thing to pass out little wooden crosses to those he happily chatted up as he went about each...

Keep Reading

In Motherhood, Grace Makes up the Difference

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding young child

Today, I have been the mean mom, the tired mom, the overwhelmed mom, the anxious mom, the impatient mom, and the want to turn in my mom card mom. Mostly, I’ve felt like the I have no clue what I’m doing mom. I have raised my voice 47 times, told children to “suck it up, buttercup” 36 times, and have intervened in approximately 83 sibling disagreements. I have rolled my eyes 59 times, sighed 148 times, and visibly showed other signs of impatience, well, way too many times. RELATED: I’m a Good Mom, You Just Caught Me in a Bad...

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

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 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

 5 Secrets to Connect with Your Kids


Proven techniques to build REAL connections