There's no "I" in Motherhood

I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, “there is no ‘I’ in team”. Just take one stroll through a Junior High School and you’re guaranteed to see it somewhere plastered on a poster lining the hallway. From a young age, we are conditioned to believe nobody should go it alone. And growing up as a young woman who dedicated her life to sports, I was the first to whole-heartedly agree with this commonly used cliché. Whether it was my teammates, coaches, or a stadium full of cheering fans, I was always surrounded by people. People who loved me, cheered for me, heckled me (anytime we’d play Texas, especially), and battled alongside me. Securing a scholarship to play collegiate volleyball at Texas A&M, and relishing in the spotlight that accompanied being a D1 athlete, was the ultimate sisterhood. There was comradery in knowing you didn’t have to go anything alone, and there was always someone to turn too. This glorified playing career turned into a high-profile coaching job after college, and I was able to lead various groups of young women to believe there is, in fact, “no ‘I’ in team”. Even as a coach, there was solace found in knowing I had a coaching staff to lean on.

Except when there wasn’t anymore. The drastic turn my life took when I impulsively stepped out of the spotlight and onto the unnoticed, lack-luster, beaten path of raising my three boys, all under the age of three at the time, was anything but comfortable. The feelings of void purpose and loss of identity didn’t light a candle to the awareness that, for the first time in my life, I was utterly and completely alone. Like a vagabond traveling to an unknown and distant land, I was venturing from a world where I was known and loved, to a place where I was unappreciated, completely isolated, and didn’t have the slightest clue what I was doing. Where did my team go? As far as I knew, the only one close enough to rely on for the daunting task ahead was my traveling husband who was more like a passerby in the night time hours. And my faith life? Only partially existent. Sure, I knew God. I was raised in a Christian home. But nothing prepared me for this. This “job”, and the feelings of being forsaken it incurred, left me with a gaping hole in my heart as the stakes of emptiness and abandonment surrounded it. 

It wasn’t until this past summer, after my decision to follow Jesus whole-heartedly had happened a whole year before, that He restored this missing link in my journey as a mother. Jesus filled the loneliness and emptiness that being a mother can produce with His unconditional love. He picked me up off my bedroom floor as the crying, heaping mess that I was and reminded me, through the touch of my youngest son, that he was the only teammate I would ever need and he would never be leaving.

Let me preface by saying, summer has always been a hard time for me. It’s during summer that all three kids are home all day with nothing to do. It’s often too hot to play outside without some sort of water feature nearby, and friends - that could offer support - are in the throes of the chaos as well. Support from the “tribe” is few and far between. Bible studies, quiet mornings, and “routine” are a thing of the school year. By the time summer rolls around, us moms are in the trenches trying to figure out what the day holds and feelings of loneliness (despite the chaos around us) start to emerge. It can leave a mother exhausted, depleted, lonely, and desperate for encouragement. And that’s exactly where I found myself. 

This particular morning, smack dab in the middle of summer, I found myself in complete shambles. What started out, months prior, as the decision to embrace this time with my kiddos and dead set on the mission set forth, led to me being completely rattled and alone on the floor of my bedroom. I had chosen to be happy and adventurous with them as we navigated through summer. I had made up my mind to teach them about Jesus, take long nature walks through the greenbelt, and be intentional for the first time in my life. I even forewent signing them up for multiple camps because I wanted the time with them. Why was I such a mess? I found out quickly that embracing something doesn’t always necessarily mean it’s going to get easier. It was still hard. I was still lonely. I was still isolated. I still needed encouragement.

So, there I was – me, myself, and I - alone on my bedroom floor crying and asking Jesus why this was so hard. I asked Him to send me any form of encouragement He could to let me know I was doing a good job, and to let me know I wasn’t in this alone. No sooner did I speak those words when my youngest started crying uncontrollably in the living room. I had no idea what had transpired to make him cry. I got up off the floor, wiped my own weeping eyes, and proceeded to tend to him. In between bouts of uncontrollable sobs and struggles to gasp for air, my four-year-old said, “Mommy, hold you. Mommy, hold you”. (In toddler language this actually means, “Mommy, hold me”). So, I did as any other mother would do. Forgetting my own sorrows, I picked him up, put him in my lap, held him tight, and told him, “It’s okay, mommy’s here. I’ve got you and you’re going to be okay.” All of a sudden, a rush of perspective washed over me like a tidal wave. God allowed me to see things, for the first time, from His perspective. He showed me in that moment, as I was holding my child, that He was holding me. I wasn’t alone. As I whispered to my son, “you’re okay now, Mommy is here. I’ve got you.” - He whispered to me, “It’s okay, my child. I am here. I am never leaving. You’re going to be okay.”

This experience with my Heavenly Father was so tangible that it would change the way I embraced my God-given mission not only as a mother, but as a wife, friend, daughter, and sister. He reminded me that morning that “there’s no ‘I’ in motherhood” because He is with me and He has been all along. No matter what feelings may result from the things that are hard, the things that are difficult to bear, and the things that leave you desperate for some encouragement; He is with us and never leaves us.  I hope you have hope as you face whatever lies ahead of you today. I urge you to recognize that God uses people, all shapes and sizes, for His conduits of love and encouragement when we need it the most. And that once you’ve received this type of love, that only the Father can give, you become an out flowing vessel to share it with others. If you’re a mom struggling with feelings of isolation and loneliness, I hope you’ll take comfort in knowing you don’t have to go it alone because, my sweet sister, there is no “I” in motherhood.

Love,

Kelly