I remember when I was pregnant and debating how long of a maternity leave to take – 6 weeks? 8 weeks? 10? 12? Thankfully I had the luxury to decide because the ministry I was working for provided 6 weeks, and I had saved vacation days to take up to the maximum 12 weeks. I was discussing the topic with my friend Jordan who had two little girls at the time:

She looked at me with confusion, “Take the 12 weeks.”

I was surprised. “Really? 12 weeks is a long time, you don’t think I’ll get antsy?” (I’m a self-proclaimed overachiever and constantly repenting workaholic)

Jordan said, kindly but firmly, “No.”

Interesting…I thought as I left her house. Well, a break could be good for me. I need to start letting go of work anyway. Yes, I believe I will take the 12 weeks. I’ll get good time with Nora and Micah. A nice break. Maybe I’ll even work on my writing. That could be fun!

Fast forward to week 11 of my maternity leave…
I’m standing in my bathrobe at 3pm crying because I have no idea how I’m going to take care of my basic physiological needs much less GO BACK TO WORK.

I sent up a flare to a handful of mentors and friends in the form of text. This is word-for-word what it said (yes, I save all my texts):

Reaching out because I really need prayers right now. Things have been really hard with Nora lately – little sleep and lots of fussiness. I’m scheduled to go back to work on November 2nd and feeling totally overwhelmed. Honestly it varies day to day on how I feel about it depending on if Nora is having a good day or hard day. On the good days I feel really excited to go back. Last night and today was a really hard day and I’m still in my robe at 3pm. I know God has called me to stay at my job, that he has made clear, but on days like today it feels like it will be impossible. I need prayers for encouragement and hope and faith mostly. But also that Nora would ease into more of a rhythm so things get more manageable.

I like how many times I used the word really. I was really laying it on thick, because I was really freaking out.

I received several encouraging responses that I read and then promptly copied to my phone to reread later. It was enough to keep me from going over the edge for the moment.

I continued to feel fear and anxiety as my maternity leave wound down. I was afraid that I couldn’t both care for Nora the way I wanted to and do the work that was required of me. Or that I could actually do both, but I would be a miserable shell of a person.

I tried to grasp for control by meticulously planning.

I pumped, Lord, did I pump. I scolded myself for not pumping more on maternity leave. You fool! Rookie mistake. I treated those little plastic packages of milk like liquid gold, and I hissed at anyone wasting even a single drop.

I coordinated very elaborate multi-colored childcare calendars and called in reinforcements in advance for the weeks I knew I would need it. Once I had arranged and rearranged all that could be manipulated, I tried to trust.

The night before my first day back, I felt like I was scheduled to leave for war in the morning instead of an 8 hour work day. I cried big tears. I hadn’t left Nora for more than a few hours since she was born, and I was sad and scared. In my heart I knew that it would bother me far more than it would bother her, but logic was annoying and irrelevant to me in that moment.

The next day I left my mom an embarrassingly long note about how to care for Nora. I got in my car, pulled out of the driveway and finally had a moment to process as I drove. I was having a strange mingling of emotions: extreme sadness combined with a compulsion to roll the windows down and yell, “I’M FREEEEEEE!”.

The Christian faith is full of paradoxes, and motherhood is not exempt. You can feel a desperation to be away from your child. You want space and autonomous room to breathe and create something on your own without them. But then, simultaneously, you miss them and want to know what they are doing right that moment. It’s the strangest thing, and surely something God weaves inside us as mothers.

Inside all of us we have the desire to be a mother dancing with the desire to be a daughter. We feel pulled to nurture our children, but also long to be nourished ourselves. Clearly this doesn’t apply to working outside the home exclusively. We need to be creative and exercise our gifts regardless if we are being paid to do so.

For me, going back to work wasn’t easy or simple, but it went relatively smooth. I was surprised to feel calm and confident on most days, and especially on the most high pressure work days. Probably because I prayed and prepared the most for those days.

During that first year back, the word God kept whispering to me was: SURRENDER.

You see, I’m comfortable being the smart, brave, strong, helpful woman out there “doing it all”. The one juggling a million things but still on time with every hair in place. The one not needing help or forgiveness from anyone. I like being the helper. I like extending grace.

Being vulnerable? Laid bare for anyone to judge, pity, or criticize? That is all very uncomfortable for me. But, God in his wisdom, was calling me to something that would require help and forgiveness from others.

He nudged me to stop white-knuckle gripping to perfectionism and embrace the grace He offers me daily. He showed me, through failure and misunderstanding, how to own my life apart from what others think of me. How to say, “I’m doing this because God’s called me to do it whether you approve or not.” He encouraged me to lay it down, lay it down, lay it all down, at his feet.

Oswald Chambers in My Utmost for His Highest writes:

“When the devil elevates you to a certain place, he causes you to fasten your idea of what holiness is far beyond what flesh and blood could ever bear or achieve. Your life becomes a spiritual acrobatic performance high atop a steeple. You cling to it, trying to maintain your balance and daring not to move. But when God elevates you by His grace into heavenly places, you find a vast plateau where you can move about with ease.”

I don’t want to spend my life balancing atop a steeple worried I might slip. I want to live in God’s grace where I can run free, not afraid to fall because I know I can always get back up again.

Check out my other posts in The First Year of Motherhood Series on Sleep Deprivation, Making Peace with My Postpartum Body and When Everyone Tells You How Hard It Will Be.