I sat at the mall coffee shop today clacking keys on my laptop, with my leather jacket and stylish infinity scarf, certain that every blessed soul that passed by immediately took me for the young and childless 23-year-old that I still am (in my mind).
I had not a single toddler clinging to my leg, nor an infant attached to any part of my body whatsoever. I wasn’t doling out crackers and sippy cups, nor desperately purchasing some sugar-laden treat to appease The Whiny One just so that I could nurse the screaming baby with a hope of avoiding toddler meltdown while I did so.
Sure, there are a couple of random plastic army men at the bottom of my purse (a gift from the ER nurse to my toddler getting stitches), and some stale rice cake crumbs, but that purse was sitting securely at my feet with its contents decidedly NOT strewn around a 4-meter radius by an insatiably curious crawler.
My eyes roamed around every so often as people strolled by. There seemed to be an inordinate number of mamas with strollers and babies and toddlers and diaper bags and baby bellies, and BLESS YOU MAMAS but I was tired just looking at them.
Then I saw you. Very, very pregnant and waddling. I can say that, you know, because I’ve been there, done that times three. Fist-bump-of-solidarity, mama.
You were waddling away from your little table where you sat with your mom(?) and you tossed over your shoulder “I have to go to the bathroom, I’m literally gonna pee my pants”.
Oh lawd’a’mercy, I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud.
I tried not to stare like a total creepster, but I couldn’t help myself. I see you and I see myself in you. I see your aching hips and your brutally tired face with the gritty, counter-cultural beauty of selflessness. That toil is not in vain, mama. You are cooking up an entire new human being from scratch and that’s nothing short of miraculous and freaking exhausting and terrifying and mind-blowing.
I see you, mamas cruising around the mall with toddlers running away and babies crying for milk in the stroller as you rush to finish your cup of coffee before it’s stone-cold or before your precious darling spills it all over the store and you have to figure out the least embarrassing way to extricate yourself from the situation. Juggling a somewhat adult conversation peppered with “yes, you can have more crackers” and “DON’T TOUCH THAT” and “gentle hands on your baby brother, sweetheart… GENTLE HANDS PLEASE!”
I thought of you, too, mama-at-home in sweats and a ponytail. You know how some women can make a ponytail a fashion statement? Yeah, me neither. For so many years, yoga pants, a hairbrush, and a bra – on the same day – signalled serious effort on my part, and I have absolutely no apologies for it.
Those years were defined by being constantly pregnant or postpartum, extended breastfeeding, covered in baby spit-up and toddler boogers about 95% of the time, dragging around a stroller and huge diaper bag, and operating under the tyranny of naps, breastfeeding sessions, and early bedtime. Those years were a blur, and I have absolutely no definable answer for how I survived. I just know that I did.
My littlest has rounded the bend on two and a half, and we’re full steam ahead to three. We have potty training within our sights. He sleeps through the night, and compared to an infant, he understands genius levels of instruction. He has about as much follow-through as a politician, but we’re working on it. In a year or so we’ll be calling him a preschooler instead of a toddler, and that will be that.
The older two are amazing at the ages of four and six. They understand things. They are developing empathy, and selflessness, and responsibility. They understand patience (in theory, anyway) and from time to time they absolutely freaking astound me with their maturity. It’s fun to be a mom of older kids. Babies and toddlers are awesome in their own way but they are the most demanding and exhausting job you’ll ever have, let’s be honest.
I remember being out of the house one time as a family – a doctor appointment or a family gathering or something – and pulling in to a parking lot. I vividly recall the momentary daze of watching people jump in and out of their cars, without stopping to buckle or unbuckle a bunch of dependent children, without worrying about rushing home before the baby falls asleep in the car and ALL HOPE IS LOST for a proper nap at home that day, which every mama knows equals pure disaster. And they had NO IDEA. No sweet clue that I was inextricably bound – of my own free will nonetheless – to every whim, need, and emotion of these little humans that had been birthed from my body. On the dark days I felt like a prisoner. No escape route, no days off, no lunch breaks.
I felt so alone. So invisible. Like the “normal” folks out in the world had no idea what it was like to be in this life. And they don’t. They can’t… unless they experience it for themselves.
But I do.
And so do the others who have waded through those trenches themselves.
I get it, and I see you. It’s not that it’s so bad. I never wanted to complain that my life was awful or terrible because even the roughest bits were mitigated by the crazy love that took my breath away whenever I looked at their long baby eyelashes or crinkly smiling eyes saying “Ah wuv ooh, Mama!”
No, it’s certainly not a life to complain about. But the intensity can overwhelm you. It’s a weighty matter to be entrusted with raising humans. Sometimes it even feels like it might crush you.
So when you’re smack in the middle of those years and wondering, “is there a light at the end of the tunnel?” For when the weight of it all feels so very dark and endless and heavy, and those days tumble one into the other with only the calendar to mark the difference? I want to take your shoulders and tell you: Yes! Your life will not always be this way. In fact, if you blink even a little, you realize that the mind-numbingly slow days sped up when you weren’t looking.
Yes, darling, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. And the redeeming quality of these little years is that if you squint and hold still for a moment, you’ll see some light in the tunnel, too. Magical little wisps that settle down on you in the most mysterious fashion. Those little bits will graciously bolster you through the tough spots if you allow them.
The days are long and short and sideways and upside-down, too. They’re all of the metaphors and all the clichés and they’re topsy-turvy with the wildness and the glory of raising babies. It’s so messy and gross and dripping with unexplainable joy in the moments that don’t even make any sense. It’s a head trip.
All I really know for sure is that you’ll make it through. You’ll be basking in sunshine before you even have a chance to realize that you’ve emerged from that tunnel, and you’ll continue on down the road with big kids that adore you and know how to wipe their own tooshes and maybe even get themselves a snack while you enjoy a little break on the couch.
For today, mama, your work is this: to kiss those babies’ heads and make yourself another cup of coffee – you deserve it.
Annie Liss
Thank you. I am taking your Go-To-Bed-Challenge, which linked to this article, and I am just sitting here crying. I am so grateful that you understand. We just moved to a new country, so the grandparents and friends and other moms are all across an ocean. Thank you for this article.
Emily
This made me cry!!! Thank u! I have three little boys: 3.5 yrs, 2, 8 months. I’m in that tunnel.
Charlene
Beautifully written! Been in that Tunnel and soooo miss it. They are now 28, 26, 20 & 14yrs old. I have survived the lil messes & teens. And sooo looking forward to being a part of my Grandaughters life and future Grandbabies. Thank you for letting others aware they are only young once and to cherish what you have. Live in the moment, you too will survive!
melissa
Beautifully written! And every word of it true. 🙂 Those booger/spitup/poop mess days seem to never end but once they do pass; looking back it feels like it was a blur!
Enjoy those ‘middle years’ of raising kids. Living with teenagers carries a crushing weight of its own! Talk about feeling invisible! Someone tell me there’s a light at the end of THIS tunnel!
Christie K
Helloooo!!
Thank you for this post. It’s amazing that I forget that I’m not alone in this ‘mom-thing’ and all the struggles that come with the beautiful mess of raising another human being. I only have one child, and she’s almost five years old.
I’m enjoying this time as she’s getting older and seeing how her mind blossoms and grows. I love every minute of it, but at the same time there are those days that really suck, for a lack of a better word.
I love your posts; you’re down to earth and honest. It’s very refreshing.
Thank you.
Whitney
Love. I’m so there in that tunnel. I know it won’t last forever. But it’s hard to remember that this season will come to a close on those hard days. One day I’ll miss the moments that creep by. Thanks for the reminder :).
Anne
Bless you for this post!!! I can’t tell you how “in the tunnel” I am right now. I needed to read this today. I also had 3 kids in less than 4 years. The youngest is 5 months, and the oldest just turned four. I feel totally crazy most days, but I will bookmark this page to read this whenever the insanity sets in (several times a day!).
Kathy
Wow, this hits home. My kids are all 22 months apart, currently ages 5, 3 and 16 months. I love the hope this post gives me, but I’ll be honest, I still have the tendency, even after reading it, to think, “but oh no, what if I’m not working harding enough now? Encouraging/making them do the dishes enough, stop fighting with their sister, all those times I was just too exhausted to insist they stop hitting their brother, or even all those days we skipped brushing their teeth because we just NEEDED them in bed!? Oh my. What if the beautiful empathy, selflessness and responsibility you speak of never comes? Will my 3 year old really learn to be gentle with her baby brother (like it seems every other girl on earth is!)?” I think what matters most, is this has convicted and challenged me to keep working hard, and even harder than I did yesterday with an end goal in mind, but also knowing that it’s not up to what I do, but by the grace of God, that they will in fact, yes definitely, turn out right! 😉
Jamie
Beth, thank you so much for your encouraging and amazing words. I’m going on 25 and very much in the tunnel right now. With an almost 4 year old daughter of my own that has a speech disorder and a 4 year old stepdaughter with attitude to boot, I’m constantly on the edge of insanity. I love them both as if they were both my blood and I honestly don’t care that my stepdaughter isn’t, they are my world and then some. They’re both daddy’s girls though, so trying to go out with them alone on at any given time is a struggle. Most days I feel as if I’m a warrior queen doing battle with her own mutinous soldiers. You’re words are a welcome breath of fresh air and remind me that the future is worth the battle that is the present. Thank you again! 😀
Valerie
My first time over here (pointed by Crystal Paine from her related post). I have a 7.5 month old and work full time and I am constantly overwhelmed by the intensity! I love her so much… but it is so hard, so intense, so exhausting. I teared up reading this. Thanks for your encouraging words.
Katina
I didn’t mean to start crying as I read your words, but I did.
I’ve been feeling so blah the last few weeks … we’ve got 3 beautiful kids – all 22 months apart – 7, 5 & 3
2 of them are still at home and as I’ve picked up a at home business over the last two years to be able to “stay home” with my family and do all those “mommy” things I’ve felt down right CRAZY!!!!!
We have a simple, beautiful life… and yet there are days like today I’m on the couch, its noon – I’ve cleaned up the living room and kitchen 7000 times and it looks like I’ve done nothing and I’m not dressed yet…… I really gaze out of the window and think will I ever make past these moments… will I ever feel like I’ve accomplished more….. will I ever be able to pee by self again??
Your words penetrated my heart today… thank for the reminder… its hard to see out of this tunnel right now!
Beth
Mine are 22 months apart as well. It’s so, so insane. Good insane, mostly, but still kind of insane! Sending you much love and hugs. And chocolate, if I could. xo
Evelyn @ Smallish
Hellloooo from the tunnel!
1. Your first sentence made me laugh out loud and then I couldn’t stop reading because YES! Of course that’s how I feel when I’m out of the house with no kids too. CLEARLY it is obvious to everyone that I’m just out a college and a cute professional or whatever. I think I play the part so well when I’m not corralling my crew, but I probably just look like an ecstatic MOM to be let out of the house alone. Hah.
2. My life is the tunnel: my kids are 4 / 2.5 / 1 / 5months preggo and due in June. This post was amazingly written and captured every droplet of truth about life as a mother of young kids, especially kids close in age. THANK YOU. I tell myself over and over that this is a season and that someday I’ll miss it. Sometimes the self-talk works and sometimes it doesn’t. 😉
3. Hi. Your blog is adorable! 🙂
Beth
Hi Evelyn!
You have a beautiful name. My daughter was *thisclose* to being named Evelyn when she was born, but we picked a different name in the end.
I’m so glad you totally got that first sentence… I seriously think about that way too much when I’m out of the house alone. In reality, I’m sure no one is even looking at me… but it’s prob just a residual feeling of being watched when out with all 3 kids when they were tiny. I felt like a circus act sometimes! 😉
Mama – with 4 kids, you are so very much in the tunnel… you deserve another cup of coffee AND something chocolate today.
It’s nice to meet you! Thanks for your kind words about the blog!! xo
Andrea Wolfe
Beth, today you made my cry. I don’t know if they are tears of an indescribably overwhelmed and exhausted heart, or tears of joy that I get to have this life, or just simply tears of a large-as-a-house (in my mind, anyway) pregnant mama who’s hormones get the best of her mostly every second of every day. Probably all of the above. It’s just SO STINKIN hard. And yet I wouldn’t trade it. How does that work, anyway. Just wanted you to know that this got me good. Thank you. <3
Beth
Oh MAN – the hormones – they don’t play fair sometimes! But seriously – of course you’re exhausted – look at what hard work you’re doing! And you’re doing amazingly at it, too. Your kiddos are just the epitome of beauty and you are positively radiant. Your insta is gorgeous. Seriously. Thanks for doing the hard work for those kids. xoxo
Erin@The Humbled Homemaker
This is one of the best posts you’ve ever written, friend! LOVE! I am right there with you. “In fact, if you blink even a little, you realize that the mind-numbingly slow days sped up when you weren’t looking.”
Kathryn
Great post, thank you! I need constant reminders to find joy in the everyday mundane of raising little ones, and to know that there are so many other moms out there going through the same things. Mom blogs are my lifeline right now
CJrMom
Such memories…I had 4 kids under the age of 5 and remember so well…. Grocery shopping was neatly tabloid worthy event. Now I have 6 ages 12-almost 3. But I am crazy…now that I have big kid issues to deal with, I’d give anything to go back to a house full of toddlers! However, I feel EXACTLY as you when I see the dear beautiful mama waddle…thanks for the beautiful tribute and the sweet memories 😉
Tina B
I really needed to read this, Beth. As a mom of two little ones, I find the tunnel really, really dark on most days. I try not to wish time away, because I know these small years are fleeting, but many days I find myself just wishing we were further down the road. The isolation, the invisibility, the desperation; they can be a toxic mix some days. My goal this year is to try and find a better perspective on all of it because I don’t just want to survive these years, I want to actually enjoy them, too.
Rachel
Thank you for this.
I have a 16 month old and just attempted to take him out to eat (without my husband as backup!). Needless to say, there was food EVERYWHERE and every other phrase out of my mouth was, “Mommy’s really working on it, ok?” as he pointed to a bazillion things and gave half-delighted-half-menacing squeals. We definitely got side-eye from other patrons and I kept telling myself, “Don’t freak out! Surely some of these people have children and they get it!” And then today I get to work and see your post. THANK YOU.
23 year old me would have been irritated to have to listen to kids near my table. I would probably have laughed about how miserable it all looked whilst admiring my then-flat-and-not-at-all-deformed belly button. But 33 year old me? Oh, she GETS IT. And I give props to each and every one of us who is willing to brave the great ol’ world with our tiny dictators in tow. There is beauty in the madness.
Liz
Oh dear sweet sister… How needed this was for my heart today.
Beth
Sending you so many encouraging vibes and prayers… xoxoxoxo
Laura Weymouth
Oh, Beth. Thank you for writing a blog post which is apparently especially for me…seriously though, the one time I tried to leave the house since the 3.5 month old was born, I sat down in my seat at Starbucks, took a sip of my coffee, checked my phone aaaand had a text informing me the two year old had started throwing up. So now I’ve just resolved never to try and get out of the house without the kids till they turn 18 😉
As for your PS–AMEN and AMEN! This morning I found myself pushing a shopping cart filled with 3 boxes of diapers, a 20 lb bag of chicken bedding, and a 40 lb toddler across the unplowed Walmart parking lot while wearing the 14 lb baby. There were a couple times I thought we were going to have to abandon ship and just leave that cart in the middle of the lot. I have not pushed that hard since giving birth. The upshot is I figure I burned like 3000 calories and won’t have to exercise at all till next week, HAH!
Beth
Oh man, I SO GET IT! I hope you get another coffee shop outing soon… one that doesn’t get interrupted too quickly.
(And your grocery scenario: goodness gracious – if I had a nickel for every time grocery shopping took herculean effort, well, I’d probably be rich. Solidarity, sister.)