One Year In: A Love I Didn’t Know Would Break Me and Build Me

 One year.

Twelve months of firsts, of tears, of miracles I didn’t always recognize in the moment.

It’s been one year since I became a mother—and everything changed.

Not just my body. Not just my schedule.
But me.
Quietly, completely, and irrevocably—me.

I didn’t know how much I would lose.
How much I would gain.
How many times I would question if I was the right person for this sacred job… and how many times God would gently whisper,
“I chose you.”

The Silent Stretching

Motherhood in the first year is a kind of stretching you don’t see coming.
Not just of skin or sleep, but of soul.

No one prepares you for the way the days blur, or how much love can ache, or how often joy and exhaustion can live in the same breath.

You’re told about the sleepless nights—but not the sacred ones.
The kind where you’re holding your baby at 3 a.m., and even though you’re so tired you could cry… you also don’t want to let go.

You’re told about the diapers, the feedings, the routines—but not about how a baby can become your mirror.
How their presence will surface everything in you: the beauty, the fear, the past pain, and the deep places that still need healing.

A Different Kind of Birth

The day your baby was born, so were you.

Not the you you once were.
Not the girl with a quiet morning routine and uninterrupted thoughts.
But the woman who now knows how to make a bottle half-asleep, who hears phantom cries in the shower, who carries the weight of a thousand silent prayers.

A woman who’s learning that weakness is welcome in the arms of God.
That it’s okay to not know what you’re doing.
That being dependent is not failure—it’s faith.

God in the Chaos

I found God in unexpected places this year.

In the long nights where I didn’t think I’d make it.
In the moments I snapped and said something sharp, then cried after.
In the baby giggles that cracked my tired heart wide open.

He was there when I prayed over a fever.
He was there when I wondered if I was enough.
He was there when I held my sleeping baby and felt more purpose than any title or paycheck ever gave me.

And He’s still here—gently parenting me while I parent my child.

A Prayer for the First-Year Mama

Lord, thank You for seeing me through this first year.
For being steady when I felt like I was falling apart.
For holding my baby—and my heart—with the same tenderness.
Grow in me the patience, the wisdom, and the strength for the days ahead.
And when I forget who I am, remind me:
I’m still Yours. Still chosen. Still called.

One Year In

One year in, I’m softer but stronger.
More tired, but somehow more alive.
More broken open—but more whole than I’ve ever been.

Because motherhood didn’t just give me a baby—it gave me a new vision of God.
His gentleness. His covering. His mercy.
And His faithfulness in the hidden, ordinary, holy work of raising a child.

So to the first-time mama wondering if she’s doing it right:

You are.
You’re showing up.
You’re growing, too.
And God is right there—in every late night, every tear, and every miracle you’ve yet to see.

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