I was 27 years old and living the life I always wanted…or thought I did.I was married to a youth pastor. We had two daughters, and I was pregnant with our third baby girl. My husband, Daniel, was busy at church (very busy), and our family was beloved by the congregation.
We were like the youth group families I’d idolized growing up, with their stay-at-home moms, cheerful kids and involvement in church.
My own family was the opposite. My dad had walked out while my mom was pregnant with me. My mom worked long hours but couldn’t afford much beyond the necessities. I was a self-proclaimed Jesus freak, riding my bike miles every Sunday to attend church by myself, where I’d sit in a pew with my middle school friends and long to belong to one of the families around me.
For years, I’d prayed for the kind of family I had now.
Why was I so unhappy?
It wasn’t just that I was struggling emotionally with an exhausting third pregnancy or that I had recently been diagnosed with gestational diabetes.
I felt totally unsuited to being a pastor’s wife and stay-at-home mom. I’m not the most organized person, and my days at home with the kids did not remotely resemble the sprightly, creative families I saw on social media— let alone the relaxed, can-do moms I remembered from youth group.
This story is from the June/July 2021 edition of Guideposts.
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This story is from the June/July 2021 edition of Guideposts.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
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