I remember, all too well, those sleepless nights and never-ending days that always seemed to follow. I remember feeling like I was on an uphill journey to somewhere, destination unbeknownst to me. I remember watching the clock as the seconds ticked by, wondering where my husband was as he had been off work for 2.5 minutes. Didn’t he know I had been devoured by non-stop chaos for 10 hours and 7 minutes and his presence was necessary? Like stat.

I also remember the sweetness of little voices and all day snuggles. I have a six-year-old so those days are not yet lost in their entirety. I often look back on those earlier times when all of my babies were young though, and I remember them as some of the best of times but also, some of the hardest.

I remember the warmth of their little bodies and hand holding and the way they settled so perfectly into the crook of my neck. I remember watching them while they sat awestruck and amazed by everything they saw or experienced for the very first time. I remember feeling so blessed and full of joy because they were whom I prayed and yet the journey of getting them was long and hard and one full of sadness and even desperation at times.

But even with all the sweetness that came along with it, the truth was motherhood was/is just plain hard. No one really knows until they know. Am I right? It’s like everything you ever dreamed it would be with a dash of “I have no clue what I am doing” and a splash of “will the crying ever stop?”

My oldest had colic, and the severest form of acid reflux one can have collectively so yes, I have been down deep inside those motherhood trenches. Sitting and rocking for more hours than I could count, listening to the vacuum drum in the background, singing lullabies. All taking place in the dark and lonely trenches of motherhood that no one seemed to talk about. Not even in a whisper. Later I would discover that no one talked about it because, by the time they regained any semblance of sanity, they were all on to the next chapter of sanity provoking hills and valleys. These little people are a lot of work, y’all. But oh so worth it. Can I get an Amen?

Some Days I Miss the Trenches of Motherhood

My boys are 13, 11 and 6. I often say that I am in the sweet spot of parenting, but only for a minute longer because that 13-year-old is wavering and I know he could jump the fence at any given moment. Then the hard will become something so different, and if I am being honest, I’m not quite ready. For now, though, he really is sweet and kind and loves his mama, so all is good in the world for a little while longer.

The truth is though that one day the crying really does stop. And you find yourself in this weird state of wishing you could be back in those trenches because 1) you have lost your ever loving mind and 2) you miss the sweetness of the moments that filled up the rest of those days. Because even when the days were long, and the hard was so so hard, there was so much sweet during that stage of life.

I miss the smell of babies, and their soft skin snuggled up next to mine. I miss the way they looked at me with so much love and devotion that it made my heart melt into a million pieces. I miss their voices because there is nothing sweeter than the sound of mispronounced words and the amount of joy that seems to project out of a 2-year-old when he talks about how much he loves his rock collection. Or his “dude” collection. Or whatever collection he seems to be obsessing over at the time. Ok, that may just be specific to my now 6-year-old collector, but you catch my drift. They’re just so dang cute in everything they do. And I sort of miss them for it.

Don’t get me wrong; I love being in this sweet spot I’m so comfortably hanging out in. It’s fun for the most part. Everyone can dress and feed themselves and sleepless nights are no more. We get to do fun stuff like hiking and all day adventures and don’t have to worry about nap time or packing diaper bags and strollers. There is some ease that comes along with the sweet spot.

So for those of you in the trenches, know easier days are to come. But even with that ease, you still may feel those occasional pangs for what once was. And that’s ok. It’s just part of this whole production of life we are all partaking in.

Winnie the Pooh once said,

How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard?

I’ve always loved this quote, and it speaks volumes about my life. I have experienced so many highs and so many lows but the good y’all is so good and so sweet. And so I’m going to unapologetically sit and reflect and miss the days of babies and tears and sleepless nights and mom brain and all the times I thought I would definitely not survive the trenches. It was so hard but y’all, it was so worth it.

Holly Paul

Holly is a 42 year old wife and mom to 3 boys, from Nashville, Tennessee. She is a hot tea lover, book reader, journal keeper, Pinterest pinner, podcast listener, y’all sayer, self-taught graphic designer, hobbyist photographer, writer and dreamer of all things big and small. You can find all of her ramblings here at Blu Nest Bloom.