Growing into Motherhood

It seems like yesterday they put that first squirmy baby on my chest. Now, that squirmy baby has just turned ten, and we’ve added five more. I look at my firstborn and watch him do amazing things like pour himself cereal and I can scarcely believe how far we’ve both come. A decade of motherhood has felt like a big milestone and made me ask, “What do I wish I could go back and tell myself? What would I tell a first-time mom?” 

Besides the whole zips, no snaps thing, I’d tell her two things: You can’t do as much as you think . . . and you can do more than you think. 

You Can’t Do as Much as You Think 

Most of us enter motherhood with visions of what kind of mom we’re going to be. Maybe we’ll be the crafty mom or the sporty mom or the spontaneous, fun mom. And of course, we’ll always be patient and gentle and kind. Very few of us dream of being the weak mom. We dream of motherhood exalting our strengths. We don’t dream of it revealing our insufficiencies, but this is exactly what motherhood does. It shows us the exact limits of our physical and spiritual capacity, the shockingly shallow well of our grace and gentleness and kindness. It reveals just how not-enough we are. 

In a world that always wants to assure us that we are enough, this can feel very defeating and discouraging. But instead of advising us to believe in ourselves and find strength in some kind of inner power, the Lord gives us very different counsel: “Cursed is the man who trusts in man and makes flesh his strength, whose heart turns away from the LORD. He is like a shrub in the desert and shall not see any good come. He shall dwell in the parched places of the wilderness, in an uninhabited salt land” (Jeremiah 17:5-6).

Here we see that self-belief is not a blessing, but a curse. Conversely, the Word also tells us that coming to the end of yourself is not a curse, but a blessing: “Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose trust is the LORD. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit” (Jeremiah 17:7-8).

God is too kind to let us live in self-sufficiency and so, he will use motherhood to reveal it for what it is: a facade. The truth is, none of us can “do it all.” None of us have what it takes for motherhood. But our God does. And so he will give us the good gift of weakness to help point us to his strength.  

You Can Do More Than You Think 

Motherhood reveals our weakness and here’s the flip side of that: Motherhood also develops our weakness. 

I spent a fair amount of time in young motherhood bemoaning the fact that I wasn’t more naturally suited to it and comparing myself to women I viewed as more capable. And then one day, I felt God convict me to stop wallowing in fatalistic self-pity and get up and learn how to be better.

Does what God is calling you to not feel totally easy and natural? Of course it doesn’t. Is your job as a mom perfectly suited to all of your strengths? Of course it’s not. If God only called us to do things we were naturally suited for, we’d live in pride and self-sufficiency and end up like that dried-up bush in Jeremiah 17.

Consider the parable of the talents: everyone was given something. Given. And as 1 Corinthians 4:7 explains, this left no room for pride or shame: “What do you have that you did not receive? If then you did receive it, why do you boast as if you did not receive it?” The person with ten talents shouldn’t have felt superior to the person with one talent, and the person with one had no reason to feel inferior. To those who used what they’d been given, the Lord said, “You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much” (Matthew 25:23). These stewards weren’t judged by what they started with. They were judged by what they did with it—how they developed it. 

Growth in motherhood happens through weakness. We develop strength and expand our capacity as moms by doing things that bring us to the end of ourselves. Growth is the fruit of struggle. 

Going back to the image of a tree in Jeremiah 17 helps us understand how we grow. Trees grow in three ways. They grow down, digging their roots deeper and deeper. They grow up, reaching towards the sun. And they grow outward, ring by ring, year by year, gradually becoming bigger and stronger so they can support a greater load and offer more to those around them.  

This is how we too grow as moms. It happens little by little. Day by day. It happens by digging our roots deeper into God’s Word and who we have known him to be. It happens by reaching up, asking him to sustain us in our weakness and limitations. And it happens by looking out, faithfully doing the next hard thing and trusting him to bring us “from strength to strength” (Psalm 84:7). 

So, if you’re a new mom who feels like a fragile sapling that can’t carry very much weight, rejoice. The Lord is revealing your insufficiency so that you will learn to rely on him and not your own strength. Don’t be ashamed of your weakness but lean into it. Send out your roots by the stream. Trust God to grow you down, up, and out. You might be surprised to find him fashioning you into a mighty oak, whose branches can carry more than you dreamed possible and who doesn’t fail to bear fruit. 

You can’t do as much as you think, and you can do more than you think. All by grace. All by faith. All by “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27).