When I fell in love with my husband we would drive around and talk about our dreams. For both of us, being parents was a huge part of that. We talked about future camping trips, creating our own holiday traditions, traveling the world with our children, and on and on.
After five years of marriage with a positive pregnancy test tucked in a bathroom drawer we purchased matching “mom” & “dad” sweatshirts and hats. Those dreams were becoming a reality and our lives were forever changing.
We had always talked about how I wanted to stay home with our future children and determine what my writing life would look like when the time came. When I announced my pregnancy, I was scared about how it would impact my creative life. Not only did I have logistical decisions to make about my fitting writing and mom life together but it felt like a sudden rebrand was thrusted upon me.
I’ve always written about my life. I’m a nonfiction writer. When I sit down to write, I write about what I know, what I see, what I’m thinking about. I’ve always believed the best writing comes from simply living life. As Wendell Berry wrote,
“The writer’s place is the ground on which the writer stands…you are writing only as well as you are observing and comprehending what is around you.”
Motherhood is where I stand now. It is my ground. It is my season. It’s where I learn about myself, God, and other people. The sacred moments writers love to find and reflect on are often in plain sight.
When I sensed this change in myself and in my creative work, I felt myself hesitate.
It’s too niche. I didn’t want to be seen as someone whose work was “just for moms.” When I think of the Christian writers I read, many male writers share about their life as fathers. I don’t think there’s a separation as much there. I don’t label men who are fathers as “fatherhood writers.” Usually, when a father shares about parenting it is something many of us connect to because of the truths we can find in the story.
Still, I sensed an invisible boundary line being drawn as I watched people unfollow and unsubscribe after I shared I was becoming a mom and when I started to write about it more.
I see an unspoken assumption that men’s reflections on fatherhood teach us about God as a Father. These lessons and reflections are seen as universal. While women writing about motherhood is often seen as a specific niche. I think it’s time to challenge this belief.
While God being a Father is a beautiful, biblical truth, motherhood reflects a different aspect of God’s love that is equally beautiful. And if we don't write or read about it because we label it as “moms only content” we are missing out.
God is not just a Father. He is a comforter, a nurturer, and a life-giver—roles we see beautifully embodied in motherhood.
When I think of Jesus’ arrival I think of Mary’s birth story—were there midwives present? was it traumatic? how long was her labor?
When I think of communion—take this and eat, for this is my body, I think of a nursing mom, quite literally using her own body to nourish another without getting anything in return.
When I think of my own C section I think of the position I was in: arms pulled out to my sides, pinned down, forcing me to stay in the exact position Jesus was in when he hung on the cross while life was pulled from within me.
These perspectives all come from motherhood.
For me, motherhood has been a deep well of creativity and connection. Motherhood is my current season. Motherhood is my ground, my life, my story. In reflecting on it, writing about it, and living in it I’ve found profound understanding about God and what it means to love. Writing these stories about my life doesn’t mean they are “just for moms.”
They’re about the human experience. They are about patience, surrender, creativity, loving without condition, sacrifice, and grace. The stories of sleepless nights, tender moments amidst terrible heartbreak and hard lessons learned in the trenches of new motherhood can connect us all with ourselves and our God.
A God who notably decided the best way to come and be “God with us” was to have a mom who likely told him stories of what it was like to touch her belly while he was nestled in her womb, counting kicks.
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