What Becoming "Mom" Has Meant to Me:: A Post from One of our Mommas!
Written By: Alyssa Nitz, a mom involved in our Becoming "Mom" program (and an excellent writer, might I add!)
Lucy and I have a little tradition every morning when we walk down the stairs
together. I stop in front the chippy, circular little mirror hanging on the wall, squish
our cheeks together so that she can see both our faces and coo in my most syrupy,
obnoxious baby talk, “Who’s that baby girl?! Who’s that girl?!”
She smiles and giggles and drools and our day begins.
What she doesn’t know is that, as I look at myself with a baby in my arms,
sometimes the question is more about me.
Who is that girl?
I love the name for the group that meets at The Mother’s Nest, ranging from
pregnancy to one-year post partum, Becoming Mom.
“Mom” is something I was in an instant, but more than that, it is something I am
becoming. The moment I held her first, I was reborn as a mom. I both embrace it and
grapple with it. I am both feeling it out and submerged in it.
This becoming, this most personal evolution, has been the most profound of my life.
Becoming mom is just that, a deeply personal, deeply individual journey.
So far my journey into becoming mom has meant…
Describing the experience of the first two weeks of motherhood as both the best and
hardest, and feeling surprised that my best and hardest time of life was happening
The overwhelming understanding that selfishness was no longer an option in my life.
Talking and talking and talking about breastfeeding, and realizing that there are some occasions when talking about my breast milk could possibly make people uncomfortable—go figure!
Encountering mastitis, refusal, and tongue and lip tie to name a few issues, and wondering why something so natural is so challenging
It has meant the most effortless love of my life.
It has meant Kingdom work that Satan would like to convince me is meaningless.
It has meant relishing stranger’s reactions to her cuteness, and feeling irrationally offended when I go to a store and no one says anything. What was wrong with those people at Target today? Didn’t they see how cute she is?
It has meant a greater sense of teamwork in my marriage then there has ever been.
It has meant greater effort to hold on to what I love about my marriage then there has ever been.
It has meant two mutually sleep deprived zombies snapping at each other and needing forgiveness.
It has meant a greater reliance on the Holy Spirit to fill me up and sustain me, and feeling depleted when I opt for self-reliance instead.
It has meant more anxiety then I’ve ever experienced, and the necessity to surrender it. To surrender her and repeat the internal mantra, She’s not mine. She’s His. I’ve been entrusted with her. He loves her even more than I do.
It’s meant a wide variety another person’s bodily fluids, ranging from drool to poop to vomit on me. Everyday. On my person.
It has meant my life feels fuller and more meaningful.
It means feeling lonely some days.
It has meant a serious need for support from other mamas who feel like life vessels to me right now.
It has meant moments of my own little family together that have felt so perfect and so joy-filled that all I can do is whisper to myself, “Thank you, Lord.”
It has meant adding a “y” to the end of a lot of words that shouldn’t have them. “Can I change your dia-py” “Do you need a nap-py?” And feelings of disbelief that I am being that mom.
It has meant clinging to some parts of me from before her, and letting go of other parts that just don’t fit anymore.
It has meant (almost) all of my mom judgments being humbled again and again and continuing…
It has meant my most earnest desire to do a job well, and the battle with the voice inside that suggests that maybe there are other moms doing it better.
It has meant feeling like an actual mental person when I so stealthily drop to the ground and crawl out of the nursery if I think she is waking up and might catch a glimpse of me.
It’s the best and the hardest.
It is blood shot eyes and messy buns and gummy smiles.
It’s leaking milk and three a.m. and staring at a tiny chest rise and fall and rise and fall.
It is a battle for sanctification instead of resentment.
It is the abundant joy of what is now and the loss of what was then and just can’t be anymore.
It is shaking with laughter as she kicks wildly in her bath and staring with wide-eyed
awe at the fact that a tiny person just rolled to her tummy. It’s crying silent tears of
defeat on sleepless nights and rushing home anxious to see her after a two-hour
It’s a family.
It’s a purpose.
It’s a calling fulfilled.
It is and will be my life’s most important work.
To me, this is becoming mom.