I sat on the bathroom floor and put down the toilet scrubber, took off my gloves, and blew back the hair that was in my eyes with an exhausted “phew.” Little feet ran up and down the hallway with loud shrieks and squeals, followed by the clumping of a clumsy baby crawl. There was so much going on in those moments, but these are the days when Mama is lonely.

We tried to go out for a play date last week. The baby wouldn’t stop crying and the toddler had an accident on her way to the potty. All the other moms were sitting around the table talking and drinking their coffee. And I felt like I couldn’t sit down long enough to catch my breath. I can never seem to find time to sit down and catch my breath. These are the seasons when Mama is lonely.

I was out running errands a couple of years ago without my kids and I decided to stop by my favorite boutique and browse around. There was a group of women in the back of the store. They were trying on clothes, giggling between the curtains, and chatting about their kids while they shopped. I remember feeling jealous of those women in the dressing rooms; I was craving those kinds of friendships, but I just hadn’t found my tribe yet. And it was so discouraging. I longed for friends who understood me. We’ve all been there, when Mama is lonely.

It was 5:30 p.m. and supper was on the stove. The kids were fighting in their rooms, the baby was crying (again), and the fit was about to hit the shan. I heard the back door open and my husband’s footsteps down the hallway. We sat at the dinner table and he told me about his day—where he had gone, who he had seen, the conversations he had. And all I had to tell him was how the baby pooped and the squabbles I had calmed. This is when Mama feels lonely.

So. Dang. Lonely.

But in that loneliness . . . in that loneliness, mama friend, is something great. Something that you were destined to do. Something so selfless that can only come from the love and the sacrifice of a mother. And even thought it’s hard (OMGosh it’s so hard), I think that every one of you while you are reading this are feeling in your heart that yes.

Yes, it’s so worth it.

The lonely days and the long nights. The changing diapers and the calming tantrums. The wanting friends and needing to be understood. The desire for someone to look at me and not look past me.

For someone to see me and really see me. Because what I do matters.

And every day is worth it. Even the days when Mama is lonely.

For someone to see me and really see me. Because what I do matters.

Lauren Eberspacher

I'm Lauren and I'm a work-in-progress farmer's wife, coffee addict, follower of Jesus and a recovering perfectionist. When I don't have my three kids attached at my hip, you can find me bringing meals into the fields, dancing in my kitchen, making our house a home, and chatting over a piece of pie with my girl friends. I'm doing my best to live my life intentionally seeking all that God has for me and my family. Follow me at: www.fromblacktoptodirtroad.com From Blacktop to Dirt Road on Facebook laurenspach on Instagram