When Motherhood Feels Overwhelming: Turning to Prayer Not Panic

My boys, CJ and Colt, are twenty-one months apart—one planned and the other… well, we’re still scratching our heads. The day we brought Colt home from the hospital, CJ took one look at his new baby brother, marched over to the car seat, and tried to push it back out the front door, yelling, “Colt needs to go back!”

Fast forward six years, and we’re still navigating the ever-entertaining (and exhausting) world of brotherhood—where “love” often looks like verbal assaults, wrestling matches, and the occasional flying toy (or child). Just ask the poor coach who had to separate them mid-practice after they threw punches at each other on the basketball court - praise the Lord I was not there.

I’m not going to sugarcoat it: motherhood, in this season, feels like a battlefield. Both of my boys have big, big, BIG emotions—and while I know that’s a strength, it doesn’t always feel that way when it’s bedtime and no one can find their blankets and someone is crying because “he looked at me weird.”

There have been more days than I’d like to admit when I’ve locked myself in my bedroom—not to check out, but to regroup. To breathe. To cry. To pray.

To be honest, sometimes I just ask God, why me?

Because let me be honest with you: I’ve tried doing this mothering thing in my own strength. I've tried the websites and posts telling me how to parent my children and if I would just do this one thing - but wait, it's going to cost you $19.99 to learn, the behavioral systems and all the other things that are thrown at us. But, if I were to be honest, the biggest impact to my parenting is Jesus. When I do not spend time with Him and daily hand over my frustrations and fears - those tend to be my hardest days.

It's in the craziness of those early morning routines (everyone is grumpy), and slammed doors (ask me about the time I took CJ's door off the hinges), that I’m learning to stop and pray—not panic. Even if it’s just a whisper: “Jesus, help me.” That tiny pause reminds me I’m not alone in this. I wasn’t meant to carry the weight of motherhood on my own shoulders.

God doesn’t ask us to be perfect moms. He invites us to be present ones—anchored in His peace, not our performance.

So, if you are in a season where you feel as though you can barely make it and everyday is a push to the last kid shuts their eyes - you are not alone. And guess what, that is exactly where Jesus wants to meet you. Prayer should never be the last resort, it should be the very first thing we do. Prayer is the lifeline to our Father. And sometimes, just saying, "Lord, I need you" is enough.

One of my favorite verses on prayer comes from Matthew 6:7-8:

“When you pray, don't babble on and on as the Gentiles do. They think their prayers are answered merely by repeating their words again and again. Don't be like them, for your Father knows exactly what you need even before you ask him!"

This verse is part of the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus teaches us not just how to pray - but how to approach God. What I love most is that He isn’t calling us to long, elaborate prayers filled with empty words—He’s inviting us to bring Him our hearts. He cares far less about how we pray and so much more about the posture of our hearts when we come to Him. It’s the full faith that when we lay our burdens at His feet—no matter how small or insignificant we think they are—He holds them close, and He hears us.

Sometimes it’s not the perfectly spoken prayer that matters most; it’s the quiet moment of peace, the steadying breath He gives us right when we feel like we can’t take another step. Our prayers matter. Every word, every tear, every whisper—He sees, He knows, and He cares.

If you’re not sure where to start in prayer, here are some simple prayers I say throughout my day (and often on repeat):

• Lord, calm my heart.

• Lord, help me see my children the way You see them.

• Lord, help me understand their big emotions.

• Lord, help me be an example of Your love.

• Lord, I trust You.

  
  

Sometimes it’s not about the length of the prayer but the posture of our hearts. He hears every whisper.