The golden advice that all seasoned homemakers seem to offer is: “Wake up before everyone else, have your time in the Word, drink something warm, get dressed, do something for you, and prepare your mind for the day.”
What if I said that doesn’t always work?
I’ve actually been a firm believer in rising early before everyone else in order to savor the morning. I’m an advocate for everyone, not just moms and wives, to rise up and take account for your day.
In fact, it’s one of the habits that makes the Proverbs 31 woman so Proverbial. She rises up not just to work, but so that she can ease into her day, stress free.
I was that woman rising up early to seize the quiet of the morning. It’s something Yahuah taught me in 2020. I haven’t been perfect because I love sleeping in late, but I’d been faithful to my best ability until I had my son. That’s when my morning routine took a nose dive.
My mornings before baby #2 looked like me sliding out of bed, doing a stretch, brewing some tea, standing in front of the window as the birds sang; sitting down at a table with my Bible and highlighters; reading and praying; then opening up my laptop or going to my computer to either perform some admin or play a game before my husband woke up expecting breakfast.
I thought my life would go back to this soon after giving birth. I tried forcing it within a month. It just wasn’t coming naturally. Every single time I’d gotten up early in the first year, I regretted it, because my son would never let me get adequate rest the following night. It’s like I was in a sleep deficit, which of course is what happens to new moms no matter what.
So I started resenting the mornings, convincing myself there was nothing there for me anymore. Why would I need to voluntarily lose sleep just to wake up and have to hold my baby, when I could stay in bed and catch up on my Zzz?
(I forgot to add, the most frustrating part of trying to get back to my routine was that my son would wake up if I so much as rolled over. 🙃 he’s almost two now, and has just recently gotten to the point that I can get out of bed while he’s asleep)
January-November 2025 was my year of sleeping in. It got to the point of embarrassment. My husband would be leaving for work at 5 or 6 in the morning, and by the time he was on his lunch break, I’d still be in bed.
On the days that I did try to get up early, it looked nothing like my old routine, even though my son was 1 year old. I thought I’d have a slow morning, but my son would just wake up on 10, start tearing up my house, demand breast milk, and have me on my feet for two hours before my first break.
Sleeping was my way to escape, because I wasn’t getting any time at all whatsoever to myself. I mean none. No time to write, workout, meal plan, have coffee with friends.
No time to even start the day in Scripture. I wouldn’t say I started hating my life, but I will say I started telling myself that I cannot have another baby. Ever.
I thought I was losing my sanity. Not solely due to the demand of motherhood, but that was a huge part. I mean, you could be having the worst day of your life, and here comes your kid, throwing toys at your head, headbutting your mouth, breaking your dishes and eating toilet paper. All before noon.
Sometimes I still tell myself this… that under no circumstance can I get pregnant again. When I stop and look at how hard pregnancy was in the 3rd trimester; how painful birth is; how little sleep you get; and how little people seem to actually understand you during the postpartum period… yeah, no thanks.
It doesn’t seem worth it to me. I love my kids and I appreciate how Yahuah uses them in my life. But I’m not interested in growing my family through pregnancy any more, and I don’t see that changing. Obviously Yah knows best and makes the best plans. But if it were up to me, I’d be done giving birth.
Is my mentality shift due to never having breaks? Do I feel this way because I resent motherhood? Am I running away from more kids because I’m also rubbing away from the 2 I have?
I find myself asking these questions, and I don’t always know the answers. I do think my mentality about children would be different if I had a maid, cook, and nanny. But I don’t think I’d want to be pregnant again.
I used to see Israelite women with 5, 6, 7, 8 kids, and think “I can’t wait for that to be me!” That was my excitement at just one kid.
Now, with 2 kids, I see those same women, and the thought of putting my body through that and having to raise all those kids so close together in age, makes me physically uncomfortable.
I start questioning how these women are raising 5+ kids as housewives and still getting it all done : gardening, homeschooling, ministry, meal planning, sometimes sewing and somehow keeping their health together.
Then I tell myself it’s no secret potion they’re taking. The only difference between she and I, is that she has a village behind her.
I have a financial village. I’ll never go hungry for the rest of my life. I’ll never have to worry about homelessness. My children will never be without what they need and plenty of what they want.
But I don’t live near aunts, siblings or grandparents who can come over with a meal or groceries. No one to stay with the kids while I run to the gym, or go on a date with my husband. No one to watch the other, while I take another to their Dr appointment.
And I wonder often, would I be willing to have more kids if I had that kind of village? The answer could change over the next few years, but right now, it’s a strong no. My son and daughter are 8 years apart. If I am going to have another child, I am not going to rush to do so.
I feel like moms only start to see the light again once their child is around 18-24 months. I can’t imagine having 3 under 3, or 2 under 2, before my body has healed, my mind has rested, and my new rhythm has been solidified.
Women tell me all the time how hard it is having multiple kids under 5 yrs old. But at the end of all their complaining, they are still rejoicing, saying its the best, and expressing hope to keep being blessed in their womb.
Maybe I just need to except that my family is going to look different. Or at least different, until I find a village.
