I’m not gonna lie, these newborn days are harder than remembered. Or maybe it’s the same, but now I’m actually here experiencing it viscerally again.

For context, at the time of writing this I have newborn twins, and two preschool-aged children. The twins are not twice as hard, but some things are doubled like diapers, crying, feeding and the time it takes to strap tiny people into carseats. And the joys, smiles, and snuggles are doubled, too.

Now two little ones fill my arms, inches from my face. My task is to keep them from head-butting each other or flinging themselves out of my arms. And there’s no free hand to open the toddler’s applesauce. There’s spit-up from an unknown twin down my shirt. Oh and on my shoulder! Sometimes they spit up on each other–it’s a mad house over here! 

Both babies cried on and off for a few hours last night. That’s when my thoughts spiral: Are they still hungry? Am I not providing enough? Is something wrong?! Would y’all go to sleep? And please just stop crying!

The thoughts grow more dramatic and broad: I’m trapped. It’s going to be hard for a long time. What if it gets even harder? It probably will! I’m only a couple months in! I’m already tired of what it takes to feed them. How do people do this?! Help! I’m trapped! Poor me! (See how that self-pity snuck in?)

But then I give myself a proverbial slap in the face. 

God is here. Yes, it IS hard. It really is. But my only choice is to look to Christ and submit myself to Him in this very real moment. I can trust that He’s purposeful. And I consider what He suffered for our sake. True, horrific suffering in every way–the obvious physical pain of torture and hanging on a cross until death, as well as the mental and spiritual pain we can’t fathom. He endured it. He gave Himself up for our salvation. His perfection traded for our imperfection. 

That is incomparable to my “suffering”. See? Now it’s laughable to even call it that. I remember Romans 8 and how the magnitude of the glory of Heaven and what’s to come is WAY bigger than the magnitude of any hardship we could ever face here. You can’t even compare the intensity of the two. 

The twins finally settled down. After 2 minutes of their peaceful sleep, my anxious thoughts melted away. Oh. It was just stress. I feel better. Babies cry sometimes. They’re well taken care of. Breathe out. This is going to be okay. And, of course, I didn’t move for the next two hours from fear of waking the one in my arms. 

In the call of motherhood, God made my body to bring honor to Him, to be a blessing to the children He gave me, and to grow me. This time around might be more demanding, but it’s sweeter, too. Some moments I know I will not miss. And some I know I will.

My arms rock and feed babies, and (somewhat literally) juggle them when they’re upset. My back is climbed on and cheeks kissed by toddlers. My arms push the swing ‘super duper double high’. My hands load everyone in and out of back row carseats, make ‘fried eggs that pop’, and wipe away smeary peanut butter. They keep clothes washed so we can be ready for the day. (Okay, a load was just found in the washer machine, damp from yesterday’s cycle, but the theory is there.) 

If you’re like me, there’s a present temptation to think of ourselves as victims of motherhood. Or like we just need to get to the next stage to be okay. Finish having babies, get through toddlerhood, fast-forward to middle school, skip high school…but then they’re adults. And that was 18+ years of our own lives.

We have a choice: we can view our tasks as enslaving, or as honorable service to the Most High. One of those choices is weak and easy, the other takes faith and strength. One breeds bitterness, despair, and jealousy of other lifestyles. The other breeds good fruit like joy. 

Don’t skip these verses, they’re way more important and powerful than anything I have to say:

“A tranquil heart gives life to the flesh, but envy makes the bones rot.” Proverbs 14:30

“…present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” Romans 12:1-2

“For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.” Romans 8:5-6

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” Hebrews 12:1-2

I can choose to laugh at the days to come with confidence like the woman described in Proverbs 31–not because “I can do it!” but because HE WILL do it in me and His mercies are new each morning (Lamentations 3:23). Every day feels like a marathon right now. But He is helping me run them with endurance. And the running is easier when I choose to lay aside the weight of self-pity and hopelessness.

The other day I didn’t know what to pray. The Lord brought lines from a song to mind: “Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow. Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me.” That’s become my frequent prayer.

I love my family so much and I feel incredibly blessed to have four daughters. This is amazing. Amazingly hard sometimes, but that’s just part of it! Some days are full of joy and peace amidst the chaos. And some days, I let the chaos get inside my head and my heart. That’s what this post is about, and the way God is teaching me to find His way through it.

I’ve been in need of refreshment these past couple weeks. God supplied me with a few hours off today, sponsored by my caring, calm, capable, competent-dad-of-a-husband. He’s probably managing a tantrum, changing a diaper, and looking for the toddler’s cup with spit up on his shoulder as I sip this pumpkin latte. 

Pressing in & choosing to hope,

Maggie