This week marks one year of working motherhood. It is not an experience that can be explained (or even summed up) neatly. (Bonus points if you caught that reference.)
I have felt judged, defensive, embarrassed, proud, jealous, guilty, competent, wildly incompetent, and exhausted beyond belief.
I worked through not enough sleep, too much caffeine, and postpartum depression.
I pumped three times a day for five months and cried big ugly tears in the bathroom at work.
I felt relief at being with adults instead of a colicky infant, able to drink a hot cup of coffee and eat my lunch sitting down and then promptly felt guilty for even thinking that.
I felt like working made me a better mother and a worse mother.
I felt alone.
I Googled “support for Christian working moms” and felt even more alone (and angry).
And then. The biggest, most wonderful surprise of the year.
I learned that I am not alone.
I am part of an amazing, strong, mighty community of moms who love God, their families, and their jobs. These women are an answer to fervent prayer, my soul sisters in sleepless nights, coffee, deadlines, and messy houses. I love them and look forward to serving and growing with them.
God has taken me on an unexpected journey this year. I am nervous, grateful, and excited to see what comes next.