Our Keepsake Journal is Here! 🎉

In my heart, I want to hold my two living boys in my arms forever. I want to feel the weight of them against me and inhale the last vestiges of lingering baby smell. I want them to remain small and dependant, their arms eagerly reaching up for cuddles. I don’t want my six year old’s incessant babble about absolutely everything to morph into the grunts of a teenage boy. I don’t want my two year old’s innocence and enthusiasm about the world to dampen. Even when it’s draining, I love that I am the only one they want. Above everyone else. That I must soothe night-time fears and day-time scrapes. I am terrified when they are sick or hurt. Experience being a difficult lesson to unlearn. When their temperatures peak and their eyes glaze, my heart lurches from its chest, panicked and imaging the worst. And I realize the incredible depth of love that I have for my boys. A depth that I cannot fathom, let alone express to them. Let alone have them understand. My heart is full when my bed is full of my darling children, creeping in during the early light. Sleep replaced by cozy contentment that the people I love more than anything are all within arms reach. In my heart, I want to protect them forever. I don’t want them to outgrow my embrace.

In my head, I want my boys to grow. Strong, resilient, healthy, intelligent, thoughtful and kind. I want to share everything I know about the world. I want to immerse them in music, art, science, sport and words. In my world of perfect mothering I read to them constantly, play with them always and never fail to see the wonder. I take them to libraries and museums, parks and concerts, galleries and forests. I want to teach them that the world is theirs – for the taking and the taking care of. I want them to believe in themselves. To have a quiet and bold confidence. I want them to know themselves, to discover passions and to be invested in life. I want them to know that dreams can become reality through hard work and unwavering self-belief. I want to give them tools that will allow them to make good decisions. I want them to be respectful. Of the environment, of the past, of others, of history and of themselves. I want them to grow into the kind of men that will make the world a better place.

I want them to believe in themselves. www.herviewfromhome.com


In my reality, there are days I am so exhausted that I ignore my boys and let the television take over. When the early morning wake ups have taken their toll and I shed frustrated tears over lost sleep. There are times when deadlines loom and an iPad and Peppa Pig provide the easiest solution to my dual responsibilities. There are the days when I wonder if my two year old’s ability to play independently is a result of sporadically attentive mothering. There are the moments when I am trawling through Facebook rather than paying attention to my children. When I only stop when they demand, “Mummy! Listen to me!” And I turn, shame-faced, to the little person that means more to me than anyone on my newsfeed. There are times when my voice is raised, when my temper flares, when I set an example completely opposite to what I yearn to teach. There are the evenings when I just want to go to bed. There are times when practical priorities over take my children. It’s not all the time. But it happens enough, these real things that rail against my mother head and my mother heart. 

I am human. This mother heart, full of love but also weary. This mother head, with its dreams and hopes for her boys and its need for solitude and rest. When I fail, I will pick myself up, hug my children and they will know me to be imperfect. But trying to be better. And I wonder, whether these windows I perceive as failure are teaching my children something important. I stand as part of a parenting generation accused of constant hovering. Accused of raising children that cannot function on their own, who are not resilient. So, maybe the moments that I think of as neglect are just as important as the moments I am involved. Perhaps all this pressure we are putting ourselves to be perfect parents is actually back-firing. Maybe, in actuality, my reality helps them prepare for theirs’.

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

Robyna May

Robyna May lives in sunny Brisbane, Australia with her sons, her husband and a crazy dog called Hugo. She has three children, two on earth and one in heaven. Her days are spent looking after her boys and snatching time to write down all the thoughts that jostle in her brain. With a background in IT and law, she has recently set up her own consulting service and is balancing motherhood, entrepreneurship and writing with varying degrees of success. Robyna May writes about grief and parenting after loss at http://chasinghissunshine.com/ She also writes at the http://www.themummyandtheminx.com/ a blog about rediscovering your inner minx and reclaiming your identity after having babies.

Moms Take a Hard Look in the Mirror When Our Girls Become Tweens

In: Motherhood, Teen, Tween
Mother and tween daughter reading

We all know about mean girls. They’re in the movies we go to see, the television shows we watch, and the books we read. These fictional divas are usually exaggerated versions of the real thing: troubled cheerleaders with a couple of sidekicks following in their faux-fabulous footsteps. The truth about mean girls is more complex. Sometimes, they aren’t kids you would expect to be mean at all: the quiet girls, sweet and innocent. Maybe she’s your kid. Maybe she’s mine. As our daughters approach their teen years, we can’t help but reflect on our own. The turmoil. The heartbreak. The...

Keep Reading

A Mother’s Love is the Best Medicine

In: Kids, Motherhood
Child lying on couch under blankets, color photo

When my kids are sick, I watch them sleep and see every age they have ever been at once. The sleepless nights with a fussy toddler, the too-hot cheeks of a baby against my own skin, the clean-up duty with my husband at 3 a.m., every restless moment floods my thoughts. I can almost feel the rocking—so much rocking—and hear myself singing the same lullaby until my voice became nothing but a whisper. I can still smell the pink antibiotics in a tiny syringe. Although my babies are now six and nine years old, the minute that fever spikes, they...

Keep Reading

Here’s to the Saturday Mornings

In: Living, Motherhood
Baby in bouncer next to mama with coffee cup, color photo

Here’s to the Saturday mornings—the part of the week that kind of marks the seasons of our lives. I’ve had so many types of Saturdays, each just a glimpse of what life holds at the time. There were Saturdays spent sleeping in and putting off chores after a long week of school. And some Saturdays waking up on the floor in a friend’s living room after talking and prank calling all night. I’ve spent many Saturday mornings walking through superstitious pre-game routines on the way to the gym, eating just enough breakfast to fuel me for the game, but not...

Keep Reading

From a Veteran Special Needs Mom: Don’t Lose Hope

In: Living, Motherhood, Teen
Woman making heart symbol with hands

When my son was newly diagnosed with autism, I was reading everything—the good, the bad, and the ugly. So much so that to this day, I can barely handle reading anything on the subject because I overdosed so badly on it. I went through a grieving process as all families do. Grieving my expectations, hopes, and dreams. It was during this time that all hell broke loose. My child, like a lot of other people who experience autism, has a lot of other psychological and medical issues that interact with his autism. The combination of all those things led to...

Keep Reading

Right Now I’m a Mom Who’s Not Ready to Let Go

In: Child, Kids, Motherhood
Mother and daughter hugging, color photo

We’re doing it. We’re applying, touring, and submitting pre-school applications. It feels a lot like my college application days, and there’s this image in my mind of how fast that day will come with my sweet girl once she enters the school doors. It’s a bizarre place to be because if I’m honest, I know it’s time to let her go, but my heart is screaming, “I’m not ready yet!” She’s four now though. Four years have flown by, and I don’t know how it happened. She can put her own clothes on and take herself to the bathroom. She...

Keep Reading

They’re Amazing Grandparents but They Were Great Parents First

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Grown woman with her parents

My parents are phenomenal grandparents. They are without a doubt my children’s favorite people. They show up to babysit with activities ready. They pick up the kids from daycare and go straight to the ice cream shop. They are the first ones to get on the floor and play cars or dress up when requested. They read the best bedtime stories and spend the extra few minutes tucking in tiny toes and kissing chubby cheeks. They’ve never missed an opportunity to spoil their grandbabies with too many toys and lots of love. But before they were the world’s best grandparents,...

Keep Reading

Raising a Teenager Is a Long Walk through a Tunnel

In: Motherhood, Teen
Two people walking down tunnel, color photo

So much parenting advice asks us to envision bridges as a metaphor for finding the path forward–bridges we need to create now during these tumultuous teen years to build connection with our kids and pave the way for a brighter future when they are adults. Bridges that override the lonely chasms created by chaos and tension. Bridges that link us together from one season of family life to another—from the island of childhood to that of adulthood. Bridges are regal, durable, and confident. They touch the sky with grandeur. They are exciting and powerful. When we ride over a bridge,...

Keep Reading

This is the Bittersweet Goodbye to the Baby Years

In: Baby, Motherhood, Toddler
Little girl pushing toddler brother in baby swing, color photo

Last August, I had my last baby. Oof. Even typing those words makes my heart ache. There’s something so final, so sad, so unreal about acknowledging the end of having babies. Maybe it’s because I’m the type of person who likes to keep all the doors open. I love possibilities. I hate goodbyes. And this, my friends, feels like a very hard goodbye. When I think about being done having kids, it feels like a goodbye to the baby years. For six years now, all I’ve known is the baby years. And while the baby years can drain me and...

Keep Reading

Each Child You Raise is Unique

In: Kids, Motherhood
Three little boys under a blanket, black-and-white photo

The hardest part about raising children? Well, there’s a lot, but to me, one major thing is that they are all completely different than one another. Nothing is the same. Like anything. Ever. Your first comes and you basically grow up with them, you learn through your mistakes as well as your triumphs. They go to all the parties with you, restaurants, sporting events, traveling—they just fit into your life. You learn the dos and don’ts, but your life doesn’t change as much as you thought. You start to think Wow! This was easy, let’s have another. RELATED: Isn’t Parenting...

Keep Reading

I Didn’t Know Anxiety until I Knew Grief

In: Grief, Living, Loss, Motherhood
Woman crouched on ground by waterfront

If you had known me for the first 45 years of my life, you would say I was an extrovert. I loved going places, meeting new people, and striking up conversations with all ages. I talk a lot, often sharing too much in the way of being transparent. It’s been said that I have never met a stranger. Yes, I will admit, I am that woman you see in the grocery store line starting up conversations with the people around me. A few years ago, my life started changing, and I struggled with becoming introverted. Though I had once loved...

Keep Reading