I never expected that mommying wasn’t really my thing until I became a mama.
. . . As I left the nest, I expected I would change the world and that I would do so with a hot husband at my side and happy children bounding at my feet. Maybe we would serve in India together or something. . .
Read more from my story of wanting to make a difference and how not every mama feels born to mom here.
I was a vivacious wander, caged. The only remaining vestige of my identity was my peasant-style wardrobe. I wanted to make a difference anywhere else, with the like-minded humanitarian, missional and globally-thinking people I fit in with. But since I couldn’t go, I went back to college to study social issues I felt like I could only gripe about from afar.
However, subconsciously, the idea of having children seemed like it could be my solution. After all, it was the next step in the American dream (and traditional Christian families) . . .
Now, not only was I depressed, an angry advocate, and I still felt purposeless, but I also had two children to run after . . . I was failing at the mommy dream. . . .
Read the post here: The Out of Place Mama in Sarah K. Butterfield’s Out of Place Series