The Unhappiest Year of My Life: The High and Holy Calling of Motherhood

This is one of my articles for Today’s Christian Woman.

Everything about having a baby is touted as happy: the rounding belly, the cute maternity clothes, the baby showers, the adorable tiny clothes.

Yes, pregnancy can be difficult for some women (for me it was very hard), but the overarching sentiment is that having a baby is an amazing, wonderful thing. And it truly is. The miracle of life, the gift of a child, the hope of a growing family—these are all amazing, wonderful things. Beautiful things. Happy things, even. But for me, the first year of my daughter’s life wasn’t very happy.

Actually, it was the unhappiest year of my life.

I knew that having a child would change things; many of my friends had already become parents, and I had watched them go from women with time for coffee dates and professional lives to moms who were worn out and frazzled. I didn’t expect the transition to parenthood to be easy. I didn’t expect that I would sleep much or that I would have a lot of extra time.

Still, I did expect to be happy. I thought that having a baby—a baby that we’d hoped and prayed for—would bring happiness in the midst of sleep deprivation and the transition into life as parents.

How to Make it When Motherhood is Hard. www.annswindell.com

But I wasn’t happy; at least not for a good while. Don’t get me wrong—I was thankful. Ella and I were both healthy, I loved her immensely, and seeing my husband as a father was incredible. But the combination of exhaustion, the lack of time for myself, the shift in my identity to becoming a mother, the change in our marriage relationship, and the depth of responsibility I felt for my daughter, all combined with those powerful postpartum hormones, left me feeling very, very unhappy.

As a new mom, I missed my old life. Would I ever be happy again? #motherhood Share on X

I missed my old life. It’s not that I didn’t want to be Ella’s mom; I loved her more than I thought was possible. But I missed the freedom and rest that I realized I would never get back. I missed being able to put myself first, something that felt increasingly impossible. I missed who I was, and I had the realization that I was never going to be that woman again.

A Shared Experience

Women don’t always talk about it, but many are unhappy—to some degree—during that first year of motherhood. The Max Planck Institute for Demographic Research in Rostock, Germany, recently reported that the “drop in happiness experienced by parents after the birth of first child was larger than the experience of unemployment, divorce or the death of a partner” (Source). Similarly, an earlier study published in Great Britain noted that “parents often report statistically significantly lower levels of happiness, life satisfaction, marital satisfaction and mental well-being compared with non-parents” (Source).

Here’s what some other moms told me about their first year of motherhood:

“I wanted adult conversation. Because I was doing same routine everyday, I felt my intelligence and self esteem diminishing.”

“Having no time to myself and being utterly sleep deprived brought out bitter anger that I’d never dealt with before and was without tools to deal with.”

“I was terribly caught off guard by how my relationship with my husband changed. I suddenly had experiences and a life he couldn’t relate to.”

“I lost any desire for sex because of the fatigue and the physical and hormonal changes.”

Additionally, for many new moms, the shift in their spiritual life—on top of and because of all of the other changes—can cause a great deal of unhappiness, too. One mom remembers that she “found it completely impossible to pray because my mind simply would not stop buzzing with so many things.” Time for a devotional life dwindles down to nothing, or emotional and hormonal changes send us into a dark spiral of depression.

So: the drop in happiness, the loss of identity and adult interaction, the lack of sleep and energy, the change in our marriages and even our relationship with God—these are high costs that most mothers pay time and time again in the early years of child-rearing. So why have children? Are mothers giving themselves over to a life of exhaustion and self-loss?

The Cost of Motherhood

In some ways, the answer is yes. Yes, every intentional mother (and father, albeit in different ways), is giving herself over to a life of exhaustion and self-loss. The cost is very real, and, at times, very painful. And still, we have a model who taught us about the surprising gift we can receive through exhaustion and self-loss: Jesus.

Jesus was, undoubtedly, exhausted at times by his ministry on earth (Mark 4:37-39), and all of his life was aimed at the supreme act of self-loss for the sake of those he loved through his death on the cross. Does that mean that as mothers, we are called to give up everything, too?

No, not in the same way Jesus did. We are not the savior of our children—Christ is. We are not supposed to find our identity or value in our children—that is found only in Christ. We are not asked to find our value in our role as moms—our value is in who Jesus says we are, not in what we do. But the way of Christ is the call to pick up our cross and lay down our life (Matt. 16-24-26), and for many of us, mothering will reveal the depths of that call like nothing else. We will be asked to lay aside our immediate desires for the sake of our children’s wellbeing and growth. We will be asked to consider one little life—or many little lives—as more important than our own (Phil. 2:3-4). And we will feel the loss of self in new and, often, painful ways—sometimes in ways that make us very unhappy.

We are not the savior of our children—Christ is. #motherhood Share on X

The Gift in the Struggle

Yet, there is a deeper joy that goes beyond the cost of our unhappiness—the gift of sufficiency in Christ. For Christ himself tells us that “…whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 16:25). In our weakness and our pain and our sorrow, we are offered the gift of Christ’s strength: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). In the places where, as mothers, it often feels most like we are losing our own lives—losing our freedom, our time, our sleep, our energy—we have the opportunity to find our lives through the sufficiency of Christ as we rely on him for everything. One mom puts it this way: “Being a mom drove me to my knees in helplessness before God, which in the long run did a great deal of good in me.”

So while having a child may make us “unhappier,” perhaps that is not a bad thing.[1] Perhaps the gift of getting to experience Christ’s strength in our weakness, perhaps letting the struggle of motherhood reveal our reliance upon Him—perhaps these are the very things that will lead us into joy that runs deeper than fleeting happiness. I know it has for me. I don’t always feel thrilled about the responsibilities that I carry as a mother, and I don’t usually feel happy about being exhausted. Still, I’ve never felt more joyful than when I’m holding my daughter in my arms, aware that my loving Heavenly Father—who sees me, cares for me, and knows my needs—is holding me, too.

 

[1] If you are struggling with deep sadness that persists or anxiety that won’t go away, you may have post-partum depression. Please seek professional help and start the journey to healing—in Christ, healing is possible.

 

Still Waiting is available now! www.stillwaitingbook.com

Sending Love

Michael has told me, many times over the course of our marriage, that I have helped him learn how to celebrate. It’s not something I think about as an abstract concept very often–this idea of being a celebrator, this way that I look for any opportunity to have a party or gather others together. But it’s in me; it’s how I’m wired. Celebrating–and taking the time to acknowledge accomplishments or milestones–it’s something I deeply love.

In my mind, however, events or milestones don’t need to hit some sort of threshold in order to merit a celebration. Birthday? To the nines! Long weekend? Celebrate! Acceptance to grad school? Party central! Half-anniversary? Why not! I don’t discriminate when it comes to celebration. In my humble opinion, we don’t celebrate one another–and God’s presence in our lives–nearly enough.

Which is why, in the midst of preparing our home to sell and the busy start of a new semester, I still wanted to have some Valentine’s Day cards for Ella to give to friends and family. I’m not in a season of life where I’m gluing glitter and hand-lettering envelopes, but I sure can whip up a cute card over at Minted. I’ve used them before for our Christmas cards and even bought my parent’s Christmas present–a photo art-print–from Minted this year. Their quality is lovely, and their website is user-friendly (a must for this mama).

Even though Ella has no idea what Valentine’s Day is, and even though it’s not particularly one of my favorite holidays, I think the concept of giving and receiving notes of friendship and love is a tradition that would do well to continue throughout the year! Love comes in hundreds of forms, and I’m hoping that Ella will learn, early, that the love found through good friendship is one of God’s greatest gifts–and is something worth celebrating any day of the year!

So, I (quickly) found this card that I knew Ella would like–she is very into coloring these days–and added her name and a cute photo of her on the back. Grandparents? Check. Little toddler friends? Check. Memory book? Check.

Image-1 (1)

There’s still time to order a set of valentines from Minted–even foil-pressed ones!–if you’re looking for something adorable and easy.

And if you’re not feeling particularly celebrated this time of year, remember: God himself is singing over you, rejoicing in you.

You are loved more than you could ever imagine.

Affiliate links are included in this post, as I am an affiliate for Minted!

To the Mom with the Screaming Child at the Grocery Store

To the Mom with the Screaming Child at

I was at the grocery store for approximately the 18th time last week, making my way past the cheese section while Ella munched on a Mum-Mum in the grocery cart seat.

That’s when I heard it.

Crying.

But it wasn’t really crying, I’m I’m going to be honest. It was screaming. One of those mad wails that had escalated into hysterical screaming somewhere between the rotisserie chicken and the pre-made deli plates.

I was curious, I’ll be honest. I rolled the cart a little faster as Ella clutched her Mum. I wanted to see if someone was hurt, or if it was just a child losing his mind.

It was the latter. As I watched, I saw the mom grab an iPad out of the boy’s hands, which doubled his screaming efforts. Admittedly, the noise level was impressive. The scream-crying echoed through the grocery store and bounced off of the countless metal surfaces with incredible resonance; this child had lungs. And I saw why: the boy was older than I had expected him to be–maybe six, maybe seven years old. His brother sat, unmoving, next to him in the body of the cart while this seven-year-old had a fully committed meltdown right in the middle of the ready-to-eat food aisle.

And then I watched as the mom rolled–no, raced–her cart to the store’s exit. She grabbed the hands of her sons–one of them still screaming–and ran out of the store. She was panicked; her body language spoke that harried tilt that moms know all too well. It’s the tilt that belies what’s underneath–all of the anxieties, all of the fears, all of the things we wish we could fix or stop or pause but can’t.

Her cart, half-full, was abandoned by the automatic doors.

I made my way down the long aisle and over to the lonely cart and looked out the front doors, hoping she was still there.

Because I wanted to tell her this:

It’s ok. You’re ok. Nobody but you will remember this. 

I wanted to say to her:

I don’t judge you. I don’t think you’re a bad mom. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

I wanted to hold her hand and speak:

We’ve all had those days. Those bad days. The days where even the iPad and the extra snacks and the favorite toy won’t help. I’m sorry today was your bad day. I hope that you don’t have bad days most days, but even if you do, that doesn’t mean you’re a bad mom. It just means it’s hard.

I wanted to let her know:

You’re not alone. I can imagine you’re doing your best. And if your best wasn’t enough today, tomorrow is another shot at this crazy-hard thing called mothering. 

And I wanted to finish her grocery shopping for her and hug her and let her know that I understand that she’s trying, even if it’s hard. Because this being a mom thing–it is hard.

And next week it might be my kid screaming in aisle one. If it is, I’ll take a hug. And some chocolate.


3 Prayers for Every Mom to Pray

3 Prayers for Every Mom To Pray

Earlier this week I had the gift of getting to speak to a MOPS group several suburbs away. The time we shared together was refreshing and fun, and I was able to speak to the group about growing spiritually in a season with little ones. I think that, as moms, we often feel tired—and that makes us feel like growing spiritually is a luxury that we can’t afford between nap times, play-dates, and crazy schedules. My heart was to offer these fellow moms some practical tools for how to stay connected to God even in this wild season of mothering with small kids. And as I’m reflecting on our time together, my heart is turning toward how we, as women, might be able to pray for ourselves and for one another. Not all of us are moms, but all moms need prayer—and lots of it! If you would, take a moment to pray these prayers for the moms that you interact with at work, at church, at the gym. We all need God’s guidance and help as we navigate these waters of learning how to love and live as moms.

  1. Pray that the moms you know would connect meaningfully with Jesus and that they would know their worth in Christ. Getting much-needed quiet time with God can be increasingly difficult in a season where the “quiet” in “quiet time” is MIA for months—or years. Pray that the moms around you would have the space to meet with Jesus consistently and that their personal worth would only stem from who God says they are—not who culture tells them they should be.
  1. Pray that the moms you know would have Godly wisdom to know how to parent their particular children. Mothering isn’t a generic role to fill—each child has their own needs, quirks, and desires. We need God’s wisdom to know how to love our children and lead them as He does.
  1. Pray that the moms you know would have supernatural energy to do all that they need to do in order to mother with love and grace. Kids usually have a lot more energy than their parents—ha! Oftentimes, our fuses are short because we are  t-i-r-e-d. Pray that God would refresh and renew the moms that you know.

How might our parenting change if we, as women, prayed these simple prayers for one another consistently? I’d love to join you in praying for the moms in our lives–ourselves included!

Still Waiting by Ann Swindell