Surviving Motherhood

It breaks my heart when I hear a mother say she’s just surviving.
Please, hear me — there is no judgment here. None at all.

Only compassion. Only understanding.

Because let’s be honest…
Motherhood is one of the most sacred, weighty, and beautiful callings there is.
But it’s also layered.
Relentless.
Quietly overwhelming.

It doesn’t just ask for your time.
It pulls on every part of you —
your body, your thoughts, your emotions, your spirit.

And somehow…
it’s one of the roles that demands the most,
yet is often the least seen,
the least celebrated,
the least supported.

The serpent knows that if he can overwhelm a mother in the very space that was meant to be her joy—raising the next generation—he can begin to unravel it all. He can break down a marriage, turn hearts cold, and steal the very seed that was meant to rise up and walk boldly in the calling God placed deep within.

If he can wear down the mother, he can shake the foundation of the home. Because motherhood is not just a role—it’s a battleground. And the enemy knows that a weary, discouraged mother is easier to isolate, easier to shame, and easier to silence.

But God never called us to survive motherhood. He calls us to walk it out in His strength, clothed in grace, upheld by truth, and surrounded by His presence.

Sweet mama—you who rejoiced over this precious gift, who waited with hope, who prayed and interceded, who laid down so much in love—and now find yourself overwhelmed... I’m so sorry. Words can’t fully express the compassion I feel for you, or the righteous anger I carry toward the enemy who thinks he’s winning. But hear me: he’s not.

He IS NOT!

Jesus has already won. The enemy may press in, but he cannot possess what belongs to the Lord. And you, mama, are His. Your children are His. Your home is His. Your tears are seen, your exhaustion is not unnoticed, and your quiet, unseen faithfulness is shaking the gates of hell more than you know.

Don’t believe the lie that you’re failing just because you’re weary.

I remember the days of overwhelm. I felt like I wasn’t doing my job right. I had left a high-paying career to be a full-time mom—answering a call I believed was holy—and yet, there I was, questioning everything. I felt like I wasn’t using my time wisely, or at least that’s what the whisper kept telling me.

Because the seeds I had faithfully planted weren’t growing fast enough. The world was shouting that what I was doing didn’t matter—that it was unproductive, unimportant, even boring. Right in the middle of all that noise, my child was having a tantrum, and I still had to pull myself together and go and pick up our eldest from school

Right there—right in the chaos, when everything feels like it’s crashing down—that’s where He meets us. Not when we’re standing tall with everything neatly held together, but when we finally offer Him our weakness, our mess, our breaking point.

Those moments have often felt like walking through a dry and weary wilderness. Yet it is in that very desert that genuine surrender is forged. It is only when I repeatedly let go of the idea that I must hold everything together that I can hear God’s gentle whisper.

And He says: “The seeds are growing, even if you can’t see them. This calling—this sacred, hidden work—is higher than the culture will ever understand. You’re not falling behind; you’re walking in obedience. And your reward? It’s not in applause or perfection—it’s in heaven.”

And this is what I want to tell you—no, I feel this is His heart for you:

“You are taking care of My heritage,” He says. “These children—they are My gifts to you. Precious, eternal souls I’ve entrusted to your care.

“But hear Me, daughter: I have never asked you to do it alone.

I am with you—every sleepless night, every weary morning, every chaotic afternoon.
I am there, in the middle of the mess and the mundane.
I am your Comforter when the tears fall quietly behind the bathroom door.
I am your Counselor when you don’t know what to do next.
I am your Helper when your strength runs out.
I am your Peace when the noise is loud and the house is full of tension.
I am your Provider—not just for your family, but for your soul.
I am your Rock when everything feels shaky.
I am your Defender when the lies come in like a flood.
I am your Strength when you think you can’t go another step.
I am your Shepherd, gently leading you—because you are tending the little lambs I love so deeply.

You are not unseen. You are not forgotten. And you are not failing.

You are mothering in My name, and I delight in you.

Read it again!

Just let go.

Let go of the burdens that are weighing you down.
Let go of the pressure to be everything, fix everything, hold it all together.
Let go of what’s clouding your vision—worry, comparison, guilt.
Ask yourself: Where have lies become foundations in my thoughts?
Where am I isolating myself, convinced that I’m the only one struggling?

What is God asking of you in this very moment?
He’s calling you to come.

So take a couple of minutes right now.
Sit with Him.

Breathe.
Be still.

Let him lead you beside still waters. Let Him restore your soul.

Please do not read pass this, I know you feel like you have no time, a laundry pile is waiting, your child is crying dinner is calling, an endless list is forming infront of your eyes, but do you really want to continue in survival mode and let the enemy have the best of you. He is calling to performance, while He is calling you to rest in His presence. What an exchange, take this invitation, if now is not the moment, come back…. please!

Let me take you by the hand — virtually —
not to shame you, but to walk with you in love.

It’s time to renew your mind about motherhood. We’ve all been shaped—deeply—by many voices: by our mothers, by the world around us, by culture, by feminism, and by our own friends.

And much of it…
isn’t healthy.
But the hard truth? We’re often not even aware of it.

That’s why we need Romans 12:2 (TPT) to become a daily reminder, a daily anchor:

“Stop imitating the ideals and opinions of the culture around you,
but be inwardly transformed by the Holy Spirit
through a total reformation of how you think.
This will empower you to discern God’s will
as you live a beautiful life, satisfying and perfect in his eyes.”

Be inwardly transformed.
Because only then will we begin to understand God's heart —
even in the small, daily moments of motherhood.

Let this become your rhythm:
Sit with God.
Every day. Preferably in the morning.
If it means waking up five minutes earlier — do it.

I know it’s hard.
I really do.
But just start with five minutes.
Five minutes of surrender. Of listening. Of being held.

Ask Him:
“Lord, where have I been shaped by anything other than Your truth?”
And then, invite Him in.
Let Him reform your thinking from the inside out.
Let Him restore your vision for motherhood —
not as the world defines it, but as He designed it.

This isn’t about striving.
It’s about returning.

Coming back to the One who gave you this calling in the first place.

Seek help.
The Body of Christ is aching to stand beside you, to walk with you, to support you in this journey.
We were never meant to do this alone.

You’ve probably heard it before:
"It takes a village to raise a child."
It’s an African proverb that deeply impacted me in my early days of motherhood.

To be honest, I didn’t understand it at all at first.
As an introvert, the idea of community didn’t excite me.
I believed I’d be just fine on my own.
I thought, I’ve got this under control.

Until I realized—I didn’t.

First, I had to face the quiet grief of identity loss after quitting my job.
Letting that truth sink in was hard,
because I hadn’t even known how much of my worth I had tied to it.
But Jesus was gentle.
He didn’t shame me—He met me in the shock,
and slowly began to heal and restore.

And then, yes—I was a new mom.
With little real experience.
I thought I was prepared…
I was the oldest in my family, I’d been babysitting since I was twelve,
even worked as a nanny for three kids for a whole year.

But having your own children?
That’s a completely different story.

Oh wow… I needed help.
I needed encouragement.
Especially in the early years.
But honestly? In every stage.

It was older mothers—women I admired—who came alongside me.
They encouraged me.
They prayed for me.
They opened up their own stories and let me in.

That’s the beauty of what we read in Titus 2:3–5 (TPT):

“Likewise with the female elders—lead them into lives free from gossip and drunkenness, and to be teachers of beautiful things. This will enable them to teach the younger women to love their husbands, to love their children, and to be self-controlled and pure, taking care of their household and being devoted to their husbands. By doing these things, the word of God will not be discredited.”

This is how we grow.
This is how we heal.
This is how we walk in truth—together.

Just this verse is so powerful.
In a world where self-made, self-sufficient, self-everything fills our feeds,
He is calling us to something radically different:
To humble ourselves,
to sit at the feet of the women who have gone before us,
and let them teach us.
To learn from their faith, their failures, their wisdom, their war stories.
This is Kingdom.
This is legacy.

👉 Check out the blog on the lies we’ve believed — right here.

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