A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I went to counseling today. One hour. 

Not because I’m sick. Not because I’m crazy. Not because I feel broken or empty. Not because my marriage is falling apart, or because I don’t know what to do with my life. 

Not because I’m hurting. Not because I need healing. Not because I’m currently feeling crushed by the weight of the world. 

Not because I need attention. Not because I need a ton of advice. Not because I’m wandering aimlessly through life. 

Not because anything is wrong with me. 

I went because I am healthy and because I want to stay healthy.

I went because I feel good and because I want to stay feeling good. I went because tune-ups and check-ups and check-ins and oil changes are so much easier than replacing a busted engine. 

Friends, sisters, mommas, brothers, leaders, introverts, extroverts, fellow depression/anxiety sufferers: don’t be afraid of help. Don’t put off help. Don’t be embarrassed by help. It’s ridiculous, and a little sad, frankly, that it comes with any kind of stigma whatsoever in our culture. 

We all need a boost from time to time, whether it’s in our personal lives, in our motherhood, in our marriages, in our friendships.

Life is hard and it’s just a little easier when you can talk to a professional who knows a thing or two. Sometimes they see things we can’t. Sometimes they can put things into words in a way we couldn’t before. Sometimes they can lighten the load. 

Keep your body healthy so you can keep acting and giving and doing. 

Keep your mind healthy so you can keep learning and growing and dreaming. 

Keep your soul healthy so you can keep laughing and loving and living and passing that on to those around you.

This silly belief that counseling and therapy are bad and embarrassing and are only to be used in trauma-like situations HAS TO GO. Bye Felicia. It’s out-dated. And it’s dumb, to be honest. I’ll do anything I can to end it, so if finding out I get help regularly encourages you to make that appointment—awesome. That’s what I’m here for, to let you know you aren’t alone. 

There is no shame in getting help. 
There is no shame in getting help. 
There is no shame in getting help. 

Read that again. And again and again, until it fully sinks in, my friend.

This article originally appeared on Facebook at Amy Weatherly

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Amy Weatherly

I want women to find one thing in this group: fulfillment and freedom in the fact that they are loved and worthy, and that they have an essential role to play in God's kingdom. I want them to rest in the knowledge that THEY MATTER. They are absolutely essential to God's master plan. And as they begin to sink into their roles, and memorize their lines, I want them to take a deep breath, and discover the courage to step out onto that stage. Follow Amy on her group page In & Out Beauty by Amy.

I Didn’t Know You Were My Last Baby When I Had You

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother holding newborn baby, black and white image

I didn’t know at the time that my last baby would be my last. Those late nights with little sleep. The days that felt so long, yet so full all at the same time. The pain that came with trying to breastfeed and wanting so badly for it to work. Learning who was truly there for you in moments that felt lonely. I didn’t know my body would never feel those first flutters again—or experience the emotional joy of meeting your baby face to face after nine months of waiting. I think that’s why I want so badly to experience...

Keep Reading

The Invisible Pain after IVF Stops

In: Motherhood
Woman holding pregnancy test with head in hands

There is nothing “basic” about stopping IVF and returning to the so-called natural route. There is no guidebook for what comes next. The protocols and procedures that once dictated every step suddenly disappear. The appointments, alarms, and instructions are gone—but the emotions and unknowns remain. There is no protocol for going back to the basics. When we decided to stop IVF and try naturally, I wasn’t prepared for how difficult this next part of our journey would be. During IVF, everything had structure. There were calendars to follow, medications to take at exact times, appointments that filled the weeks. There...

Keep Reading

The Final Out

In: Motherhood
Baseball game as seen through the fence behind home plate

Tonight I watched him step up to the plate for the last time. Play-offs. Single elimination. Down by one. Last inning. Two outs. And the batting lineup just happened to fall to him. Nothing prepares you for that. He took a breath. The weight of an entire lifetime spent in red dirt hinging on this moment. He set his face like flint to that pitcher. The ball left the glove, and he swung. Strike one. He stepped away. Reset. Tapped the base. Then set himself once more. He swung, hit a line drive, and sprinted headlong towards the base, setting...

Keep Reading

These Holy Small Things

In: Faith, Motherhood
Children sewing at machine

My 8-year-old-daughter has recently taken up sewing, to my simultaneous delight and chagrin. My delight because I too love sewing; my chagrin because her enthusiasm often outpaces my own abilities, namely, in the undertaking of tedious projects with no pattern. Take, for example, the cloth doll diaper we designed and stitched up together. Granted, the design was fairly basic to draw up and scale. But the minuscule nature of the work, both for my hands and head, was enough to throw me into existential questioning. It was one of those moments when you wonder how the sum of your life...

Keep Reading

The Pressure to Do Everything “Right” Is Crushing Us

In: Motherhood
Tired and stressed mother sits in hallway with toddler across from her, black and white image

I don’t remember when motherhood started to feel like a test I didn’t study for—but somehow, I’m always convinced I’m failing it. It’s in the quiet moments. Standing in the grocery store aisle, overthinking every label—organic, non-GMO, dye-free, free-range, grass-fed—like I’m one bad decision away from ruining their future…while also trying not to take out a second mortgage just to afford my ever-rising grocery bill. Sitting on the couch, wondering if the show they’re watching or game they’re playing is rotting their brain. Lying in bed at night, replaying the way I handled a meltdown, picking apart every word I...

Keep Reading

Letting You Go Is Still So Hard

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Walkway toward water at sunset

Nothing really prepares you for the day your child leaves the house. Last September, my husband and I moved our 18-year-old son into his dorm room. Right after that, he was swept away into all things orientation, and we began our 1,000-mile journey back home. Leaving this beautiful human I raised and spent all those years with felt foreign. During our final hug goodbye, despite trying to hold in my pain, I broke out in huge, ugly, guttural tears. Our drive home was a long two days. It took every fiber of my being not to turn around. Returning to...

Keep Reading

Behind Every Smiling Graduate Is a Mother Letting Go

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mom and grown son smiling

Every year, millions of American families send their children off to their freshman year of college. Their pictures dot our social media feeds. Images of excited students holding collegiate pennants, maybe wearing a hat or holding up their school’s hand sign with beaming smiles. Their parents post excited words about futures and hopes and dreams. One chapter closing. Another opening. A new beginning. So why am I struggling so much? Why does this feel more like a loss than a gain? Why are my tears always on edge, threatening to spill over each time I think about August and what...

Keep Reading

Life Lessons from My Grown Children

In: Faith, Motherhood
Two women's hands on teacups

“Don’t limit a child to your own learning, for he was born in another time.” – Rabindranath Tagore Quietly communing with a loved one in the early morning hours is such an intimate and precious time. Visiting with one’s grown child when all is dark and still is one of life’s purest pleasures. I remember the conversation clearly. My daughter’s husband, small children, and father were all asleep as we whispered and chatted. She and I are both fidgeters by nature, unable to be still for long. This inner restlessness must be remedied, and we are compelled by biology to...

Keep Reading

As a Medical Mom, I Measure Growth Differently

In: Kids, Motherhood
Little girl climbing outside

In most homes, the marks on the wall are a simple celebration of time passing. They are pencil lines that track how many inches a child has gained since their last birthday. But in our home, those marks represent a much deeper, more complex story. When your child lives with multiple hormone deficiencies, growth is never just “natural”—it is a carefully managed medical achievement. However, as any medical mom knows, the story doesn’t end at the top of the head. It begins deep inside, with a tiny gland that isn’t sending the right signals. Having multiple hormone deficiencies is often...

Keep Reading

Hannah Harper Is Every Mom with Babies in Her Arms and a Dream In Her Heart

In: Living, Motherhood
Hannah Harper American Idol winner sings with her young son on her lap

By now, you’ve probably seen the posts flooding your feed: A young mom. Three little boys. A guitar strap embroidered with her children’s drawings. And a crown. When Hannah Harper won American Idol this week, moms everywhere erupted. And honestly? Same. There is something collective about watching a stay-at-home mom win on such a large stage. The celebrations have been pouring in. Moms, we can do it. She didn’t abandon her dreams. She went for it. And all of that is true, and all of that is worth celebrating. But I want to add something to the celebration. Not to...

Keep Reading