for when I hate motherhood
I hate motherhood. I’ve never said those words aloud, so it feels wild to be typing them and especially wild to be typing them with the intent of sharing this heart secret with the internet world. But I think it’s time to say it: I hate it.
When Motherhood Comes in Weakness
I’m not much of a mom these days. At least, that’s what I’m tempted to feel like when I see all the other moms dashing here and there, taking their kids to sports practice and volunteering in their classroom, hosting big birthday parties and planning fun vacations. My son has a mom who spends much of her time in bed, in a recliner, and in doctors’ offices.
There are moments when I grieve who I can’t be for my 11-year-old, when I mourn the ways my terminal cancer diagnosis has laid heavy burdens on my son’s young shoulders.
Courage, dear heart; God is writing your story. He created you. He is the One Who gives you identity.
In Him, there is hope. There is freedom. There is grace.
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