I was raised by one of those superhero moms. You know the type—the ones who had the clothing you went to school in washed the next day, always had supper ready on time, arrived early to both drop you off and pick you up, made the beds each day without a single wrinkle, and packed the perfectly balanced lunchbox. I am very grateful for the example my mother set for me as both a working woman and a diligent housewife.
When I got married and we decided I would be a stay-at-home housewife, I set the same standards for my household that my mother had in ours. I mean, why couldn’t I have the same perfect household as her if I don’t have children yet and I’m not working? Tidiness and organization almost seemed to come naturally to me.
About a year and a half into our marriage, my husband and I began a new chapter in our lives with our first pregnancy. Before I became pregnant, I already made a commitment to myself and my husband that I would not let my housework fall apart simply because we had children. I was going to keep my same high standards—no matter what.
A few weeks into pregnancy, morning sickness and nausea overcame me. At first, I could push through, but within a week I found myself curled up on the couch for hours. Sickness seemed to never end, but the few times I would feel relief, my body would give way to sleep. I gave up working out, cancelled babysitting jobs, and watched laundry pile up. Most days I would pull myself from the couch cushions before supper to attempt meal prep, but some days I gave up after gagging over the smells of the kitchen. I tried to keep the living room curtains closed because the sunlight revealed a layer of wood chips, dog hair, and dust covering our floors.
One afternoon, after a three hour nap, I woke up not rested but ashamed. I hated seeing how pregnancy had debunked all my routines and tattered my tidiness. Though my husband never seemed bothered, I cried and apologized daily for the messy floors and my excess sleep. I knew I needed rest, but the amount I was getting overwhelmed me. I wanted to force myself into my old routines, but my body wouldn’t allow it. My husband would try to pick up the slack, but that only made me more sad and frustrated.
Tired and exhausted momma, can you relate to what I experienced? First time pregnant wife, do you know the struggle of perfectionism and tiredness? It doesn’t need to stay this way. I want to offer you true change and hope from the Bible that I had to work through in those early months of pregnancy as a housewife.
Read the rest of this article at Strength & Song.