A couple of years ago I sat on the receiving end of a passionate diatribe against stay-at-home moms of which I was, and still am, one. The culmination of the “argument” came when she said, “well, I make my own money.”

The implication was clear. She made her own money and was, therefore, better than her stay-at-home-mama counterparts who don’t “make their own.” It wasn’t an argument in the traditional sense; I sat and merely listened. When the evening was over and I was alone, I cried. 

​I hate laundry. I’d much rather scrub a bathroom than fold shirts and match socks. I avoid it way more than I should. If it were up to me, I’d never wash another load again. I’d march myself to the nearest salon and get my nails done. 

​But I am called to self-sacrifice, not self-care.

I’m not entirely sure where to begin so I’ll just start here.
I have depression.
And, yes, I am now on medication for my depression.

This may cause some of you to gasp, pull-away, frown, and shake your head. While there will be others who nod, understand, and sigh knowing the scope of the fall of the human body and mind.
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Still there may be others whose eyes widen and throats catch because you know the feelings yourself. You know this is you or has been you. Maybe you’ve not had the courage to talk about it. It scares you – rightfully so – but it forces you to draw the blinds of your heart and turn the lock on yourself for fear of what others will think.

​This is the beautiful, messy, life-giving, energy-draining dance of motherhood. A delicate spin between joy and sorrow, laughter and tears, and clinging to and letting go that makes up our days and our nights. We vacillate between the when-will-she-evers and the it-seems-like-only-yesterdays.

We are told to “cherish these moments” when we don’t feel like it; we are warned not to blink when all we want is a nap. We know it is ending and it aches but we also anticipate the excitement of all the firsts fully understanding that one day all those first will be lasts.
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Motherhood is not to be trifled with.

For the last few years I’ve had a theme for each year. This year it’s pretty straight forward, but each time I come back to it I am both shocked and relieved by its simple truth.

​This is my theme.