I need to tell you something I’ve been ashamed to admit for years.
Something I whispered to God in the dark but never said out loud to another soul.
I hated being a mom.
Not every single moment. Not every single day. But enough moments—enough days—that the guilt nearly crushed me.
I’d scroll through Instagram and see other moms glowing with joy, their kids dressed perfectly, their homes immaculate. And I’d think, What’s wrong with me?
I loved my kids. Of course I loved them. I’d die for them without hesitation.
But I didn’t love this—the endless diapers, the tantrums over nothing, the sleepless nights that turned into sleepless years, the way my body didn’t feel like mine anymore, the way my dreams felt buried under laundry and meal prep and somebody always needing something from me.
I didn’t love the mom I had become.
And the worst part? I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone.
The Weight of Silence
Christian moms aren’t supposed to feel this way, right?
We’re supposed to cherish every moment. Count it all joy. Thank God for the blessing of children.
And I did thank God. I knew my kids were a gift.
But gifts can feel heavy when you’re the only one carrying them.
So I smiled at church. I posted happy pictures on social media. I said, “Being a mom is the best!” when people asked.
But inside, I was drowning.
I was angry at myself for not being enough.
Angry at my husband for not understanding.
Angry at God for giving me something I clearly wasn’t equipped to handle.
And beneath all that anger was a question I was terrified to ask:
Did God make a mistake when He made me a mother?
The Day Everything Broke
It was a Tuesday. Nothing special. Just another ordinary, exhausting day.
My toddler was screaming because I gave her the wrong color cup. Not the pink one—the other pink one that apparently only she could see the difference between.
My baby was crying because he was always crying. Colic, the doctor said. It’ll pass, they said.
It hadn’t passed.
The dishes were piled in the sink. The laundry was overflowing. I hadn’t showered in three days. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate a meal sitting down.
And my daughter was still screaming about that cup.
I just… snapped.
Not at her. I didn’t yell. I didn’t lose my temper.
I just broke.
I handed her the cup, walked to the bathroom, locked the door, and slid down onto the floor.
And I sobbed.
The kind of crying where you can’t catch your breath. Where your whole body shakes. Where years of exhaustion and shame and fear come pouring out all at once.
“God, I can’t do this,” I whispered. “I’m a terrible mother. I don’t even want to be here. What’s wrong with me?”
And in that moment—sitting on the cold bathroom floor with my kids crying on the other side of the door—I heard something I’ll never forget.
Not an audible voice. But clear as day:
“You’re not a terrible mother. You’re an exhausted one.”
The Truth I Needed to Hear
“‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.’ (Matthew 11:28)”
Those words unlocked something in me.
I wasn’t a bad mom. I was burned out.
I wasn’t ungrateful. I was overwhelmed.
I wasn’t failing. I was human.
God didn’t need me to be perfect. He needed me to be honest.
For the first time in years, I stopped pretending.
I opened that bathroom door, picked up my phone, and called my husband.
“I need help,” I said. “I can’t keep doing this alone.”
And for the first time, I meant it.
What Changed
God didn’t fix my circumstances overnight.
My kids were still exhausting. The house was still a mess. I was still tired.
But He changed how I saw it.
He started showing me things I’d been too tired to see:
1. Motherhood Wasn’t About Being Perfect
It was about showing up. Even on the days when “showing up” meant cereal for dinner and TV for an hour so I could breathe.
God didn’t call me to be a perfect mom. He called me to be their mom. Messy, tired, imperfect me.
2. My Worth Wasn’t Tied to My Performance
I’d been measuring my value by how clean my house was, how well-behaved my kids were, how “together” I looked.
But God’s love for me had nothing to do with any of that.
He loved me on the days I got it right and the days I got it all wrong.
3. Asking for Help Wasn’t Weakness—It Was Wisdom
I’d been trying to do everything alone because I thought that’s what good moms did.
But even Jesus had help. Even He withdrew to rest. Even He said, “I can’t do this alone.”
So I started asking:
- My husband to take the kids for an hour so I could shower
- My mom to watch them once a week so I could sleep
- Other moms if they ever felt this way too
And you know what? They all said yes.
4. God Saw Me—Even in the Mess
On the days when I felt invisible, buried under the weight of motherhood, God saw me.
He saw every sacrifice. Every sleepless night. Every moment I wanted to quit but didn’t.
He wasn’t disappointed in me. He was proud of me.
The Turning Point
Things didn’t change overnight. But slowly, they changed.
I started going to bed earlier instead of staying up to clean.
I started saying no to things that drained me.
I started being honest with other moms about how hard it was.
And the more honest I got, the more I realized: I wasn’t alone.
Every mom I talked to had felt this way at some point. Every single one.
We’d all been hiding it, thinking we were the only ones struggling.
But we weren’t.
If You’re Reading This and You Relate
Maybe you’re in the bathroom right now, crying.
Maybe you’re reading this at 2 AM because you can’t sleep, wondering if you’re cut out for this.
Maybe you love your kids with everything in you, but you’re drowning in the weight of it all.
I want you to know something:
You’re not a bad mom. You’re not failing. You’re not alone.
God sees you. He knows you’re tired. And He’s not disappointed in you.
He doesn’t need you to be perfect. He just needs you to keep showing up.
And on the days when you can’t? He’ll carry you.
What I’d Tell My Younger Self
If I could go back to that bathroom floor, here’s what I’d say to the mom who thought she was failing:
You’re doing better than you think.
Your kids don’t need a perfect mom. They need you.
It’s okay to be tired. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to not love every moment.
God didn’t make a mistake when He made you their mother.
You are exactly who they need.
A Prayer for the Tired Mom
God, I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. Some days I don’t even recognize myself anymore.
But I’m choosing to believe that You see me. That You know what I’m carrying. And that You’re proud of me—even on the days when I feel like I’m failing.
Help me to be honest. Help me to ask for help. Help me to see my kids—and myself—the way You do.
Amen.
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